


Clair De Lune

by etherealmindss



Category: stalia fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Stiles, F/M, Stalia, Teen Wolf, background relationships will be decided throughout the story, malia has her own pack, stiles and malia, the chimera pack except they are just werewolves in this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealmindss/pseuds/etherealmindss
Summary: Her eyes go up in flames, reflecting the flickering embers of the fire. And a shadowy aura seems to weep black around her like a blanket of ash as she saunters towards them with a sensual sway of her hips./Those eyes never leave his and the flames that lived in them before erupt in a vision of Hell./She's an Alpha, too. An AU Stiles and Malia story.





	1. She Bathes in Red

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I know, why am I starting a new story when I have so many unfinished ones? Because I'm crazy and need to multi-task when I can't think of ideas for my other stories. This is a story about the pack and Stiles is the alpha. Their backgrounds will be rooted in canon, but have some variations from the show. Malia just may be a villain in this... at least for now. But who doesn't love a good story about how opposites attract? Enjoy, Stalia all the way!

Stiles breathing echos through the trees, his pack following close behind. A cacophony of heavy foot falls beat against the ground as they each race to keep up with him. The air vibrates harshly, dangerous strikes of lightening going off in a static frenzy. There's a storm rolling in.

We have to move faster, come on guys!

Stiles eyes flood a vibrant red as his keen senses are on full alert, scanning the area for some source of a threat.

They've got to be around here somewhere, let's keep moving!

Derek had warned them about this, the Tate Pack. A full-fledged group of blood-thirsty, super werewolves that have gone on a deadly rampage through out California, leaving piles of dead bodies in their wake. They had left the spiral symbol on Derek's front door this morning. This isn't a warning, it is an announcement... They are here.

It's too late...

The metallic stench of blood saturates the expense of the woods, making Stiles gums ache deeply for the sweet relief of letting his canines finally drop down.

The trees begin to blur together as they pick up their pace, running blindly into to an unknown destination and an unpredictable threat. Scott, Stiles' most trusted Beta, runs a step or two behind him, keeping his back shielded. Scott would die for his Alpha... His best friend. Stiles had saved him from a wendigo that attacked the hospital a few years ago. He had been bleeding out and Stiles had given him the chance at a new life, taken him in with open arms and gave him a place to call home. They formed a special bond that he just didn't share with any one else, being more like brothers than pack mates.

Lydia leans against Isaac's back as he carries her throughout the woods, looking over his shoulder from time to time. Stiles had found Lydia laying bloodied and broken on the lacrosse fields of Beacon Hills high school. She'd been bitten by Derek's uncle Peter and he cleaned her wounds and helped her through her transition.

Isaac, however, was found unconscious in the town graveyard that he had worked at a couple years ago with a fresh bite mark on his wrist. To this day, no one knows who turned him, but Stiles knows that it still weighs heavy on his mind.

Liam, the youngest and newest member of the pack, lags behind the group, still adjusting to his new strengths. He was a run away that happened to walk right into a supernatural fight that broke out between the pack and a couple of nomadic kanimas. He had been hopeless and lost, trying to find a purpose. With a wave of adrenaline, he had jumped in front of Allison and took the brute of the sharp claws that were aimed at her throat. Stiles saw the way he had risked his life for a complete stranger. He may have been a little reckless, but he would definitely be a loyal asset, thus earning him the bite.

Kira's effortless acrobatic skills are used to their advantage. She swings from tree to tree with her Katana nestled between her boot, giving them the surprise advantage over the wild card of a pack they are about to face. She had met them through school when she moved here from New York last year. She established an easy friendship with the group and after the initial weariness wore off, Stiles asked her to join them.

Allison hides in the shadows, her bow aimed and ready to strike. She had been with them from the beginning, her and Scott discovering what they were together which brought them closer. Coming from a family of hunters, Allison had helped Stiles learn how to defend himself against the different weapons that could be used to harm him. She even helped him build up an immunity to wolfsbane. Besides Scott, Allison is the one Stiles trusts the most.

The trees begin to disperse and the smell of rotten, burning flesh crackles in the middle of a lone pit of fire that sits dead center in a large circle made of mountain ash. The smells burn their noses and Stiles swallows the urge to vomit.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It's kind of like a form of poetic justice, don't you think Theo?" A low, feminine voice purrs.

"I think a masterpiece is nothing without the artist. You always do leave an impression." Comes a deep, husky voice in response to the woman's question. He must be the Theo she's referring to.

Her back is turned, but Stiles can tell that she knows that they are there watching. Five looming silhouettes mirror themselves around her, the shrouds of smoke making their faces difficult to detect. But the girl... She must be the leader.

Malia Tate.

Stiles had heard about her before. There had been rumblings of mystical stories, different variations of myths and folklore about a hybrid werewolf that would mount the world, bringing pain and suffering to those who cross her path. By different definitions, she was an exquisite creature and an interesting woman. Rumor has it that she bathes in the blood of her enemies and sings to the sound of their screams. No one really knows what other supernatural part she is mixed with, or if they did, they didn't live long enough to tell the tale. And of course there were whispers of her undeniable beauty, however, no one had ever been able to even get a photo of her. That made it almost impossible to see her coming. She came and went, ghosting from place to place like a riddle without any clues. She became a mystery.

Her Beta, Theo Raekan, is her most trusted ally. He is known to be impulsive, sporadic, and a loose canon with a mean streak. He does everything that she says with blind loyalty and devotion. Some say it's because she put a curse on him a long time ago, others say it's because he's in love with her. All that is known from the rumors is that once, a rogue werewolf tried to strike her down and the next second his heart was pulled clean from his chest and his spine snapped in jagged, bloody pieces on the ground. Theo had forced the man's pack to watch on helplessly as he tore their alpha apart and then burned his body.

There isn't much information about the other pack members, only that they possess outrageously, unique powers. Apparently Malia had saved them from being lab experiments for a group of doctors that aimed to eradicate the supernatural race by creating a new kind of creature. Werewolves who hunted werewolves, the ultimate killer. For this, her pack is loyal to her without question. She had promised to reign terror on their enemies and to protect them with her life. This is what makes her strong. It's been said that the Dread Doctors, as they are called, are still after her to reclaim what they believe is theirs. But she's always one step ahead, evading their grasp.

Behind them, Liam finally catches up, but his foot gets caught on a twig and it snaps, the sound making a loud crunch.

A seductive laughter can be heard from across the field.

Finally, the one they presume to be Malia turns, and all Stiles can recall is the way everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her body moves with a natural charisma, her steps graceful and lithe but sharp and demanding like a compilation of paradoxes. She's close now, and they can finally see her face. Prominent cheekbones are visible, set above full, red lips and a pearly white smile. Her jaw could cut diamonds and her dark hair blows behind her.

Her eyes go up in flames, reflecting the flickering embers of the fire. And a shadowy aura seems to weep black around her like a blanket of ash as she saunters towards them with a sensual sway of her hips. The naughty quirk of her lips falls into a siren's smirk as she wipes a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth and unashamedly sucks it off her thumb. She raises an arched brow as a direct challenge and flashes her dimples at the disgusted looks she receives. Ultimately sensing that Stiles is the leader, she faces him head on, her boldness staggering and the blackness of her eyes resembling a starless sky. Those eyes never leave his and the flames that lived in them before erupt in a vision of Hell. When the heat burns out, her irises flash red and that's when it becomes so strikingly obvious that she isn't just any werewolf. She's an Alpha, too.

"Stiles Stilinski. It's truly a pleasure to meet you. I've been awaiting this moment for a while now. I've heard all about you and your rag tag team of misfits." She speaks, caressing the syllables of his name with a confident and commanding tone, letting her eyes travel the expanse of his lanky frame.

"Can't quite say the same about you, unfortunately." He bites out, trying to control his rising temper. Scott lays a hand on his shoulder to calm him down and steps back when his body begins to lose it's tension.

Stiles can't stand her already. And yet, even with the irritatingly condescending ego she holds above herself, Stiles is helpless to the pull he feels that is inevitably drawing him in, like a tether bounding the two of them. His body is charged and on edge, waiting for her next move. It's like a silent game of chess, and she's a step away from knocking over his King.

She moves closer into his space and stares at him in wonder, running a her finger down the side of his face.

"You haven't always been the good guy, have you?" She taunts, with an all-knowing look. "Your heart... It's stained. I can feel it. But something brought you back from the edge, right? What's your sob story? Your source of salvation? It's a girl, isn't it?" She states more than asks.

Her gaze falls over to Lydia as she walks closer towards the strawberry blonde. Allison jumps in from of her, resting the sharp point of her arrow right in between Malia's eyes.  


"Wrong move, bitch." Allison grits out, a scowl etched on her beautiful face.

Malia's grin widens. "You're a hunter, aren't you? And Argent. Well, would you look at that. You remind me so much of your mother... She tried to kill me once, you know? Would have succeeded too if I had underestimated her. She was a smart one. Had a quick wit. What about you, Allison? Do you have what it takes to kill me?" Malia mocks, taking hold of the arrow and pressing it harder into her skin until it draws blood.

"Have you ever killed before? Do you want me to be your first? Go ahead, let go of the arrow. But I can promise you that your next kill will be your pretty little friend here, Lydia. Theo will make sure of that. He'll force your hand, that I can promise." Malia continues to goad her, trying to get Allison to feed into her anger.

Allison's bottom lip quivers and her hands falter in their movements before she drops the bow and steps back, pulling Lydia with her.

Malia makes a tutting noise with her tongue and mercilessly chastises her."I really expected more out of you, Ally. Pity, I thought you would be the one Argent that actually broke the mold. Tell your mother I said hello, I hope death is treating her well." She grins devilishly, basking in the fire that returns to the hunter's eyes.

"There's my girl. I was wondering where that spirit went." She says before moving past Lydia, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.

"Or was it your best friend that changed your heart? Scotty boy here really can work wonders with those adorable, puppy dog eyes." She continues, taking Scott's chin between her fingers before he jerks out of her grasp and growls.

"Easy there boy, you wouldn't want to make a scene, would you?"

Scott urges his growling to stop and falls back in line next to Stiles.

"That's what I thought."

"Malia, do I need to convince these guys to get their shit together, their disrespect is making me hungry for a little baby wolf." Theo chimes in from his spot behind her, making a show of messing with Liam.

The younger wolf counts to ten and tries to control his breathing. His explosive disorder couldn't be anymore annoying than right now.

"No, it's okay Theo, I've got this. Why don't you go check on the others, huh Sweets?" She pacifies him with a bloody kiss to his cheek, putting on a sickly, saccharine smile that he easily can't resist.

"Of course, what ever you want. Let me know if you need me." He cautions, leaving the group with a final glare.

"Don't mind him, he can be such a sour wolf, sometimes." She says nonchalantly, picking at the dried blood underneath her nails.

Stiles has finally had enough. "Look, what is your angle here. What are you guys doing in Beacon Hills? I'm tired of the mind games." He shouts, wrapping both hands around her throat.

"Oh, but baby, I love games." She moans, not looking even slightly affected by the chock hold he has her in. She looks more turned on than anything.  
Theo is back as fast as he left and grabs Stiles by the arm in a steel grip. "Get your fucking hands off of her, mut." He snarls, digging his claws into Stiles' skin.

Malia looks annoyed. "Theo, I told you I got this. Don't disregard my order again, understand me?" She questions, looking him in the eye and daring for him to disobey.  
"Fine." He mutters, stalking off embarrassed with his tail between his legs.

She faces the group again. "You see those bodies over there? That's what happens when you get in my way. My pack and I are going to be in Beacon Hills for an extended amount of time. Don't bother us, we leave you alone and nobody gets hurt. Fuck with us and I'll start taking each of you out one by one and delivering different body parts to your door step, got it?" She threatens, meeting each of their eyes to show that she isn't kidding.

"We understand." Stiles begrudgingly agrees, releases her from his hold.

"Great." She says, before stepping closer and leaning into Stiles' ear. "And hopefully the next time you're choking me out, it will be under more pleasurable circumstances. Maybe you'll even let me return the favor." She breathes out, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He shivers involuntarily at the sexual innuendo and she chuckles at the affect she has on him.

"Until me meet again."


	2. Not My Lover

Malia and Theo thrash against the bed as the head board squeaks underneath their bodies colliding together in a heated exchange. Her canines feel silky to the touch as they slide up his throat and glide up to his jawline where she leaves hot, wet kisses. Theo can't contain the growl that fights its way through his throat, loving the deep lacerations that she leaves on his pale back with her nails. It paints a pretty picture, red against white. The blood stains him, much like the way her hands leave imprints in his skin. They continue their asynchronous rhythm of writhing bodies, the smell of sex and sweat filling the muggy room. Malia can feel the pent up tension building through her body, ready to pummel over the edge and explode in an orbit of stars circling her head.

"That's it, Theo, right there." She groans, throwing her head back in ecstasy with her wild curls billowing around her like a crown fit for a queen. She was always on top no matter how much Theo whined about it and how it hurt his delicate masculine ego. She really didn't care for his complaints. This was a means to an end. She had needs and so did he, the problem was that he let his emotions get in the way.

He interlocks their fingers from beneath her."M-malia, babyy... I love you..." He murmurs, lost in the sensation of her naked chest pressed against him. It's a pathetic love that he holds for her in his trembling black heart. He feels bound to her in a way he'd never felt before. Throughout his life, he'd never been able to make an honest connection to anyone or anything. Not his family or any companions, because in the end he killed them. But then she came along, tearing through the seams of his life. He heard this buzzing in his ear when she came to him in a dream. Her eyes downcast until she looked up and met his gaze. She had the mind of a killer and the temptation of the devil, and for some reason he craved to count every strand of her hair and to feel her heart beating against his palm. In the thralls of passion he wishes so dearly that he could cut out his soul and give it to his lover. He doesn't shy away from damnation if it's she who gives the order.

Malia halts her movements and looks down at him with a darkening shift of her eyes. She immediately rolls off of him and creates an exaggerated gap between them. "Well there goes my orgasm, way to kill the mood, Theo." She says bitterly, getting up to search for her clothes in the dark while being pissed that she didn't get to finish. She stumbles around wishing she could wash the taste of him off her mouth, grimacing at the lackluster words of love he's sure to recite. Just the thought of it makes her eyes roll.

He rushes to stop her. "Malia, come on, don't leave. I don't get it, I would do anything for you, kill anyone for you... Be anyone for you. Why isn't that enough? You can pretend that you don't feel the same, but I know you do." He grabs her face between his hands, holding onto her so hard that it will probably leave bruises. He's so afraid that she'll disappear and then he'll be left with nothing. "I know you do. I know you and I love you. And you love me, too. Deep down." He grits out, latching on to her wrist when she turns to leave.

Malia grinds her teeth and pushes him hard away from her. "I don't feel anything for you, don't you get that?" She says emotionlessly. "You're nothing to me but a pup that I chose to protect. I don't owe you anything. Just because I choose to fuck you because you make me feel good doesn't mean anything. Don't read too far into these exchanges Theo, or I'll have to find another pretty face to get me off." She replies ruthlessly with an unwavering gaze. She's cold and distant and she likes it that way. What's sad is that her eyes say it all, she means every word.

"Don't make me regret saving you. And please don't insult me again by suggesting that I would ever have feelings for you." She threatens, forgetting her clothes and walking out the room naked. She ignores him calling her name and slams the door behind her.

She knows that was a little harsh, but it is necessary. Emotions are a weakness and Malia does not entertain the weak. She loves her pack and she'd die for any one of them, but they can't mistake her loyalty for anything other than what it is. Theo will get over her rejection, he always does. And eventually he'll try again, and she'll have to remind him again about what his place is in this pack. She'd never been worried about him leaving. She barely batted an eyelash at his empty threats in the past. Malia knows that he needs her that he believes that one day she will love him back. Hope can be good when it's contained. But the harsh reality is that having hope is a surly bitch that reaps disappointment.

She struts purposefully down the hall, her steps echoing with each step she takes. She enters her chambers feeling free in her nudity and saunters to her porcelain, claw tub that filled to the brim with fresh blood.

Good, Hayden had her drawn her a bath. At least someone listens these days.

The metallic aroma is bittersweet, a euphoric thrill shooting up her spine and causes her body to shudder in anticipation. Her eyes bleed from black to red as she slips a toe in, then her whole thigh, and then the other. She slides further down until she's immersed in red. Her body is a temple and the blood flows through her like a conduit. She's reeling, lost in the thrum of power that shakes her deep within her bones. The rumors were true, she bathes in red.

"I've never felt more alive." She whispers to herself in a raspy lilt before she begins to sing. The haunting tune dwindles and weeps, carrying throughout the hallway so that everyone can hear.  
She fingers around for the remote until it's between her grasp. She clicks on the flat screen tv that hangs against the wall. Game of Thrones appears on the screen about 30 minutes in and Malia sighs, leaning back against the plush pillow attached to the tub that cradles her neck. Melissandre shows her face, so luminous with her long maroon hair and wicked, red lips. She grins at the screen, mouthing the words as the red priest recites them.

She grins. "The night is dark and full of terrors." The chant seems fitting.

She stares at the flickering flames of the fire, watching the wood blacken and burn before her eyes. They way the flame licks a path up the log fascinates her, it destroys anything in it's path. Her eyes never leave the furnace as she drifts into a state of lull. Eventually she cleans herself off and slips into her robe before moving to her bed.

She falls asleep to the sound of Beacon Hills winding down. And she wonders if all the people in this wretched , little town feel safe wrapped up in their blankets with the doors locked to their homes. She hopes that they feel peace and stability. Because it will only feel that much sweeter when she paints this town in blood. And she'll start with the Stilinski pack.

 

The morning shines through the windows and Stiles squints at the light. He yawns, stretching out his muscles and running his long fingers through his tousled brown hair. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stands and takes a piss before getting dressed for the day. He throws on a dark grey long-sleeved shirt with a pair of dark jeans and boots. He stands in front of the full-length mirror, analyzing the bruise-like shadows that peek from underneath his eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep, still stuck on the confrontation the other night.

Malia Tate and her pack had come guns blazing into Beacon Hills, offering a wary semblance of peace so long as he and his friends don't get in their way. Allison had been rattled and Scott had let her lean into him while he made sure she got home safe. Kira and Isaac walked with each other, deciding it was best to stay in pairs. And Stiles escorted Lydia back to her lake house. She'd been shaking the whole way back and her glassy eyes held fear. He had offered her a place to sleep back at his apartment but she refused, saying how she had to learn to deal with her nightmares on her own. He understood that, but he was still disappointed.

He shrugs on his cracked leather jacket, thoughts reminiscing back to Malia. Her red lips and dark eyes haunted his dreams, causing him to shoot out of bed in a cold sweat multiple times throughout the night. He could feel her breath on his neck and her tongue on the shell of his ear. He woke with a raging hard on to say the least.

He drives his beat up, old jeep to school. Scott pulls in on his motorcycle at the same time and parks next to him. They grin at each other when Stiles rolls down the window.

"You been following me, Scotty? If that's the case, you might as well of just stayed at my place last night instead of Allison's." He jokes, catching Scott's eye roll.

"Sure, man. It took me a few minutes to get here. That rust bucket of yours probably took you close to fifteen. I could practically hear it wheezing out its dying breathes when I passed you. Not my fault your whip is slow." He jabs back, laughing at the insulted face that Stiles gives him.

"Rust bucket? You just don't appreciate antique beauty."

"Well that thing sure is ancient." Scott smirks, clapping Stiles on the back as they make their way into the school together.

They meet up with Allison and Lydia at their lockers and Scott greets the brunette by pulling her into his side and kissing the side of her head. She smiles in return, leaning into him further. Stiles love seeing his two closest friends happy, but it also reminds him how fucked up his own love life is. Lydia and him stare at the couple before turning to each other and looking around awkwardly for an escape.

Suddenly a figure rounds the corner and Stiles' mouth goes dry.

Malia Tate moves in slow motion. Her black shredded jeans accentuate her long lean legs and the faded teeshirt hugs her curves in all the right places, leaving a sliver of skin exposed. Her tiny, pink tongue slips between her signature red lips and runs across the bottom one before she bites down on it.

Stiles can feel a tightening in his jeans and saliva building his mouth.

She moves artlessly down the hallway, her hair decorated in a messy bun with wavy tendrils falling around her heart shaped face. She's a wolf in sheep's clothing and every nameless face in the crowd has her attention. Theo follows a few paces behind her dressed in all black and a scowl marring his handsome face. His brows furrow in annoyance, probably sensing the lusty, male hormones that perforate the hall due to the walking goddess that's making a statement just by being there. She catches his eyes and a devilish grin forms on her face. She's changes direction, and makes her way towards Stiles. She stops in front of the group but makes a show of directing her body towards Stiles so that her sole focus is towards him. He has a feeling that it's a power thing. She's attracted to the ones of higher ranking, which happens to be himself. It was normal among most werewolves, but Stiles doesn't make it a thing within the pack. To him, they are all equals, he just shoulders the responsibility and guilt more than the others.

"Malia, what are you doing here?" He whispers heatedly in an effort to keep a low profile.

"Well we are going to be in town for a while so I thought it would best if we try to blend in. Plus, how else am I going to keep an eye on you and your pack just in case any of you are stupid enough to make a move against me?" She asks rhetorically as if it should be obvious, her gaze shifting to a fuming Allison which causes her smirk to widen.

"You can't be here, this is our territory. Either you leave, or..." He starts to make a threat.

"Or what?" She challenges, stepping dangerously into his space. She's only an inch or so shorter than him, but with the power and authority that radiates off of her, you'd think she is ten feet tall.

He moves in an inch closer until their nose to nose. "Then I will forcibly remove you." He sneers, caught into between keeping his focus on her eyes and letting them fall shamefully to her full, red lips.

"Baby, I could rip your eyes out of their sockets and do my nails at the same time. But I'd really hate to do that to such a handsome face." She breathes, running her thumb dauntlessly over his bottom lip. "This is my game and it isn't over until I say it is. I suggest you stand down before I decide to kill every last one of your pathetic little friends. You know I can do it and I promise you that I will. Don't test me, Stiles, before this gets ugly." She bites out, her eyes flashing scarlet red before returning to their dark color.

The other students had already dispersed and the hallway was empty besides Theo who loomed in the corner looking on with waning interest. Allison makes a move to defend Stiles but before she even takes a step Malia has her pinned against the wall by her throat, cutting off her air supply.

"My little Ally Cat, I thought I had taught you a lesson last time." She taunts, raises her a few inches off the ground where her feet dangle below her. Lydia lets out a scream and Malia silences her with a look. "Stiles, control your pack before I have to do it for you. And my methods aren't exactly preferable." She lets Allison go with a huff and the hunter falls to the ground. The group rushes over to help her up and make sure she's okay. Stiles turns to take on the girl who dared to harm his pack, but she's already gone.

He can feel his blood boil and the veins in his neck throbbing hotly against his skin. It pisses him off how he's threatened by her, of her power, and how he may not be strong enough to protect his friends. Scott decides to take Allison home and Lydia scurries off to class. However, Stiles catches the tail end of Malia's scent and follows it to wherever it leads.

It's time he showed her who the real alpha is.


	3. Her Shadowed Silhouette

Stiles catches up to her easily, zeroing in on her sloshing heartbeat and defined foot steps that travel out the school and towards the woods. The trees paint a pretty picture of sublime beauty, the airy chill, rich dirt, and dark forest green colors falling together in hypnotizing patterns.

His senses are flighty with capricious undertones, his deep furrowed brow fixed above his steely pair of eyes.

"Are you following me, Stilinski?" He hears a whimsical notion of a question from behind him. He's on immediate alert, turning from left to right in erratic movements, but she's vanished as if she'd never been there at all. He stops and looks around, trying to catch any trace of her, but her scent is everywhere flooding his nose. "Maybe it was a little impulsive to come here without an actual plan." He thinks to himself before a pair of razor blade teeth trail down his neck, causing him to shiver.

His mood changes like quicksilver.

A growl rumbles deep in his chest, a wayward cacophony of discordant sounds that vibrate together and crumble the catacombs of his mind's patience.

"Come out and face me, She-wolf. I'll show you who the real Alpha-male is." He dares, a sweet and seductive lilt in his voice that drips of honey and promise. He knows a woman as dauntless as her couldn't resist the urge to challenge his authority.

With a blur of movement, she stands before him, an unearthly glint in the charcoal eyes that stare back him soullessly. The wildness in them temporarily paralyzes him, leaving him shaken to the core. He can sense nothing, not an ounce of anything remotely human in the recesses of them. Her stance is hard and unforgiving, her hair disheveled as it billows around her. A wicked smirk paints her lips and the casual head cock she sports leaves him a bit antsy. No one has ever left him so shaken. But something about her unwillingness to show weakness makes him almost respect her.

He can't help but let his mind wander to a section of poetry they had been studying in his English class the past week, Virgina Woolf being the focus. One line had read. "She was like fate- a consummate mistress of all the arts of self preservation: hair rolled and lustrous; eyes so nonchalant; nothing could startle her; people going and coming all the time; she not looking, yet knowing, fearing nothing, expecting nothing." The quote embodied the essence pertaining to the storm of a woman standing before him with confounding clarity. Nothing about her was muted, but all was magnified.

She wiggles her fingers, flexing them until her claws elongate to a sharpness that could cut down to the bone. With a quick flick of her wrist, she slashes the tree next to her bristled with grooves and splintered bark, sharping her nails. He believes that it was meant to be intimidating. And it kind of was.

"You said you wanted to show me something?" She teases, her sharp canines peeking up from beneath her lips. "Please do, I'd love to become acquainted with your... Stamina." Her voice dips at the last word, leaving an abundant of inappropriate meanings behind that he didn't have time to process. Instead he feels his eyes bleed red, his glistening fangs drop from his gums, and his sharp claws follow suit.

His shallow breathing is ragged from his fury. He can barely get the words out without choking on them in between spewing saliva and his hateful glare pointed at her."You fuck with my pack, you fuck with me, princess." He snarls before he lets out a loud roar, charging at her.

Malia dodges his first attack, moving out of the way with expert skill at the swipe of his claws. She catches her balance and ducks down low, swiping his legs out from underneath him. Her brown hair whips around her like a machete and her swift kick to his lower body causes his back to arch and a pained howl to rip through his body and echo out to the expanse of trees. He lands on his back with a thud, hearing the distinct crack of bones. Without warning, Malia's sharp heeled boots press hard against his sternum, stabbing down with enough pressure to snap the end of it off if she went just a little bit deeper. She leans down to pet his inky black hair that dripping in sweat but she pulls back just in time for his teeth to miss her hand when he snaps at her like a rabid dog.

She grins fondly at the beast before her. "You know, I warned you. I could just kill you now and make an example out of you for your little friends. If I murder their Alpha, what else will they have left to lose? Maybe the added effort to reap revenge for their fallen leader will make this game all the more interesting. Lord knows I could snap your spine in half and reapply my lipstick at the same time. Or maybe I'll try that on Allison." She suggests. "Or maybe I'll just make you my little bitch, instead." She laughs at the glower that pulls down the corners of his mouth. She leans down a little further close enough to where her breath tickles his ear. "Would you like that, Stiles? Would you like to be my bitch?" She threatens innocently, laying a careful kiss on his cheek that leaves a red stain from her lipstick.

Stiles eyes burn into hers as he gargles out a reply. "No, I don't think I'm cut out to be anyone's bitch, but I'd love to kill one." He smirks, grabbing her by the ankle and snapping it in half. Malia lets out a guttural groan, falling to the ground in pain. Stiles takes hold of her throat in a tight grip, pressing hard to cut off her airway by crushing her windpipe. He speaks with a promise, "I'm going to strangle this pretty little throat of yours" he begins, stroking her long, luxurious neck with the tips of his fingers, appreciating it's silky quality. "I'm going to watch the life drain from your eyes-" He continues in a rapturous timber, each word gilded in seduction. "-and then when I'm done I'm going to rip your throat out and deliver your head on a sliver platter for your lover Theo and the rest of your pack of abominations." His voice bites hard at the closing, staring her down with the weight of a thousand sun's fury blazing behind his eyes.  


"And then I'm going to pick them off one by one. Isn't that what you threatened to do to my pack? I think that would be the best way to go about it, poetic justice and all." He says mockingly, using the same words against her that he'd witnessed her speak the first time he saw her dancing around a fiery mound of rotting corpses.

Her mouth opens to scream but he shushes her and throws a hand over her mouth. He titters manically, "No no, don't scream. That only makes this more enjoyable for me. You see the fear... It excites me, leaves me starving for more. I guess you could say I'm an adrenaline junkie. And normally I wouldn't tell you this, but since you'll be dead soon it doesn't really matter." He ponders. "You were right, you know. I wasn't always the way I am now... Noble... Honorable. I was a monster. My heart bled as black as my soul, or what little bit of soul I had left. I did eventually find my humanity but you of all people should know how fickle emotions can be, and occasionally I lose control. And when I do, honey, I'm insatiable."

Malia shivers involuntarily at his admission, actually having the sense to show some fear.

Trembling in disgust, she spits in his face. He laughs loudly, wiping the saliva off his cheek. He loves her fire, it crackles and ignites in a way that the old him would have been addicted to. He runs his fingers over her forehead, smoothing out the crease that had formed there. "Your fear is enough to temper my cravings for at least a fortnight. With that in mind... Maybe it is best that you scream."

He lays a gentle kiss on her lips and surprisingly her mouth feels supple and sweet as she reciprocates.

She tastes like every dark thought he's ever had and the pleasure of it all consumes him.

Her lips mold against his: fitting perfectly, her sighing at the right times, nibbling just where he liked it. She is this hybrid mix of a woman and a monster who couldn't contain herself. Stiles finds himself enjoying her, licking the honeyed nectar of her quintessence right off her lips.

She's saccharine in the lowly smile she gives him.

Stiles grins. "You're quite happy for a girl with my hands around her throat."

She chuckles darkly. "Don't threaten me with a good time, then." She murmurs, laughing at the hazy look that swims in his eyes. She reaches up and touches the bruises beneath his eyes, "Red looks good on you, Stilinski." She acknowledges softly, completely forgetting about the position that they are in.

Stiles finds himself at a cross-roads. "Aren't you the least bit scared?" He questions, realizing that he's loosened his grip on her.

Her eyes roll. "I'm divine in my own right, lesser men and women cower at my feet. I'm a harborer of death shadowed in a celestial body. I could tear you apart if I wanted to." She says, matter-of-fact.

"Don't lie to me, I saw your fear." Stiles quips, but underneath the facade he's sweating bullets. Her nonchalance makes him uneasy.

She quirks her eyebrow in amusement. "Did you ever think that maybe you've mistaken my desire for fear?" She questions boldly. "Maybe I just like the shape of you. Maybe I wanted to know what you feel like pressed against the curve of my hips" She breathes, thrusting up until she's flush against his thigh. "Or the smell of you, so rugged and sexy." She groans, running her nose up the column of his neck. "Or the contours of your chest." She continues her exploration, fingers sprawled across his upper body before following the naturally-lined path down his abs until she reaches the waistband of his jeans. "Maybe I just wanted to see what kind of man you are, because that tells me what kind of Alpha you are." She grins a pearly white smile when his breath comes out in puffs and spurts, giving into the feel of her hands on his skin. He shivers and tremors rack his body with an electric feel. It's as though her hands are everywhere at once.  


"You boys are so predictable..." She mutters, but Stiles doesn't register what she says until it's too late. In a cool second, she's flipped their positions and Stiles is once again on his back. Malia forcibly breaks off a jagged branch from the tree, snapping it over her knee and impales Stiles through the stomach. Stiles roars in unimaginable pain, choking on the blood that spills from his mouth and down his shirt.

"You're weak." Malia reprimands, walking around him tauntingly in a circle. "You lost your shit just from a little feminine attention? I guess it's good I didn't travel down too far." She jokes, eyeing him like a lab rat. "I mean, I knew I was good, but damn... I must be really good."

Stiles can hardly breath, the blood is heavy and thick as it escapes his gorge in large quantities. His body feels dead and his eyes droop in exhaustion. Malia stands there before him, but his vision blurs to the point that there's three of her. Her tickling laughter crashes against his ears and his skin crawls at the loudness of it.

A piercing scream parts the sky like the Red Sea.

Lydia.

"I guess you're pretty close to death if the banshee can sense it. I'll see how you fair out here all by yourself. Hopefully your friends find you in time. But if not-" She bends down, giving him one final bloody kiss, the redness coating her lips. "I'll see you in Hell." She winks and then she's gone.


	4. The Red Earth & Pouring Rain

Blood seeps through the cracks in the earth, grass and dirt stuck in it's essence. Stiles lays doubled over, pressing his hand deep into the wound to stop the flow. He'd pulled the branch out prematurely, realizing that it probably wasn't the smartest idea when the river of red cascaded down his shirt and coated his shaking fingers. To anyone else, it would look like a massacre had occurred by the blood that stains his teeth and the amount that paints his throat like a grotesque masterpiece. He sees figures parting the trees, Lydia, Scott, Allison, Kira, and Isaac on a dead sprint to meet him.  


Lydia gasped in horror, a shrill scream cutting through the air when her rose petal lips part. Fragile little Lydia, the girl who slept in pretty dresses and who never had a single strawberry blonde hair out of place, appeared disheveled with wild-desperation shining in her sea green eyes. Stiles basked in her concern, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the current situation.

Allison wore a tight grimace, her gaze calculated and shriveled into narrowed slits. Hunter's eyes assessed the wound, removing her pristine, white jacket to place pressure in the spot where she had replaced his hands. Her dark hair whipped around her face as she worked on cleaning the area. It would make it even worse if it got infected. Stiles swallows thickly which she hears and her brown sugar eyes meet him head-on. She grabbed his hand, giving him a tight squeeze and a thin smile, one that silently communicated that she'd fix it. She'd fix him. And he believed her. Getting hurt usually wouldn't be problem since he's an Alpha and most things healed pretty fast. However, with Malia's particular strength, the branch had protruded his body out through his back, impaling him completely in one clean strike.

Scott moved around him in a circle, sniffing him closely and checking for anymore wounds. His golden eyes flashed in anger as his senses took in the blood. Scott had always been known for being the calmer one in the pack. He only killed with a purpose, finding unnecessary bloodshed inhumane. His compassion was his Achilles Heel, and Stiles wouldn't change a thing about him. With laser focus, he completes his rounds, keeping his hand on the small of Stiles' back. It keeps him grounded and makes Stiles feel a little better too.

Isaac stands by the tree, his gaze flitting back in forth while his hands ball into fists to stop them from shaking. He was the sensitive one of the group. Sometimes Stiles wonders if it would have been better if he'd never become a werewolf, but in the end it wasn't up to him. Violence had always been Isaac's trigger. One time it had gotten so bad that he'd fallen into a near catatonic state, mumbling and hissing "let me out" over and over again with a hollow glint in his eyes. The curly haired boy had came with a back story of abuse, his dad beating him, burning him, and locking him away in the freezer that sat below the house in their basement. He'd been working on it, but the post traumatic stress was sometimes too much for him to handle. Today is one of those times. Kira keeps her distance, but every so often she runs her small fingers through his hair and wipes the sweat off his forehead. They'd always made a great team.

Allison makes quick work of closing up the hole. With expert skill, she removes the crescent moon earrings from her ears, using them as substitute needles to stitch up the wound. Stiles howl pierces the sky and rocks the trees, his claws biting into the earth as the pain increases. The dullness of the earrings make it worse, being so consciously aware of each inch of his flesh ripping and tearing, slow and steady, over and over makes the pain near blinding to the point where adrenaline kicks in and he doesn't feel anything at all.

"I'm almost done, Stiles." She promises, dried blood caked underneath her fingernails as she stitches the last of his broken skin back together.

"Thank you, Allison." He says sleepily, as he fights to stay awake.

She smiles tightly with it never quite reaching her eyes. "This should hold it together until we get you to the hospital. We called Melissa, she already has a room for you."

Stiles looks around at his friends, knowing all their faces and being thankful for every single of of them.

"You're going to be okay, Stiles. You can't die on me just yet." Lydia says through her tears, pushing the sweaty hair off his clammy forehead.

He smirks, "I knew you couldn't get enough of me, Lyds."

She scoffs and turns her head to hide her smile. "Don't flatter yourself, Stilinski."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He snarks back.

Scott lifts him up bridal style, hoisting his weight equally into both his arms.

"You know this is usually how a husband carries his wife over the threshold to their new house together. Do I hear wedding bells in our future, Pal? Stiles jokes, spitting some blood onto the ground as Scott carries him through the moss and trees.

Scott can't fight the smile that stretches across his face. "As long as I wear the pants in this relationship, My dude." He teases, focused on moving faster through the woods.

Isaac walks behind them looking for a threat. He'd always been protective over Stiles and undyingly loyal. He always felt bad that he was never able to help in situations like this. And no matter how many times Stiles told him that it was okay, he never believed him. This was the one way he could contribute, watching over his Alpha as if his life depended on it. Kira decides to walk with him, her Katana in one hand and her other in his hand rubbing small circles on his palm. Isaac was head over heels for the shy girl with the clumsy grin the second he'd seen her. Everyone in the pack knew, but Kira appeared oblivious. She wasn't one for attention and somehow she never noticed the way Isaac looked at her. But Stiles had faith in them, they'd figure it out.

The pack continues to skirt through the woods until they find the familiar break and they rush to the hospital about five minutes down the road.

The hospital is bustling with people. Broken legs, bullet wounds, and cases of Pneumonia all around the room.

Scott moves through the sea of people and rings on the bell adamantly until he gets a nurse's attention.

A busty woman with cat glasses and an obvious nose job looks down at them with a disinterested roll of her eyes. She catches sight of the yellowish wound oozing with puss and blood and has the audacity to yawn.

"Well that doesn't look good." She says tiredly, moving her eyes back up to Scott's face.

Allison growls very unlady-like as she pushes through the group. If you want something done right you have to do it yourself. "Hello, yes-" She starts, looking down at the woman's name tag. "-Brenda," She acknowledges with a falsely sweet smile, "My friend here needs some medical attention as you can see. I need the best room you've got and a doctor to look him over and fix him. Am I clear?" She bites out, the same saccharin smile still in place with full dimples on display.

The nurse looks down at her haughtily and glares. "Look Missy, I don't know how you think you are..." She begins, before Melissa runs around the corner and latches onto Scott's arm. "I've got this one Brenda, why don't you attend to the other patients, yeah?" Melissa suggests, throwing her a disgruntled look and ushering the teenagers down the hall.

Allison begins to follow, but turns around with a nasty smirk. "So thankful for your help... Becky, was it?" She asks feigning confusion. Before the nurse can retaliate, Allison turns on her heel and shuffles down the hallway after her friends.

"Bitch." The nurse says under her breath.

Allison's tinkling laughter can be heard all the way down the hall.

Melissa has Stiles on a gurney with Liam's step dad in tow. She had called in a favor and the doctor had agreed to come in. He knows all about what Liam is, what they all are. Isaac had called the runt of the litter and told him what happened. The pack would have pulled him out of class earlier, but school was important and they knew they could handle it without him. They wanted to shield him from unnecessary dangers as many times as they could allow and just let him be a kid for once. Ignorance is bliss and naivety is a gift. They all learned that lesson the hard way.

Scott took hold of one of Stiles' hands as they made their way down the busy halls of the hospital. All the while, the Beta leeched some of the pain from his Alpha so that he could remain awake until they got to his room and he was stabilized. They didn't know if he had hit his head or not or if he had a concussion, so it was best that he stay conscious.

Lydia stands on his other side and interlocks their hands, looking at him with concern.

She clears her throat. "You know, I was really scared back there. I felt your death coming and I couldn't believe that I was feeling yours of all people. I thought you were going to die, Stiles. What were you thinking? Do you realize how devastated we would all be if you were gone?" She whispers-yells, her voice growing louder and more pissed the longer he doesn't say anything.

"I was thinking of you guys. Or at least I thought I was. I guess I wasn't really thinking at all." He says in apology.

"You can't just run off like that without back up. Malia is powerful, Stiles. You can't afford to get yourself killed all because of a stupid pissing contest to see who is the stronger Alpha. So if you're done measuring dicks, I think it's pretty clear that she's the winner. Just leave it alone, promise me?" She demands.

Stiles sighs trying to contain his temper. "I can't do that, Lydia."

Isaac butts in. "She's right, Stiles. Your pride isn't worth your life. We can make a plan together and face her with all of us. We're better united, no more going solo. Even Batman needs a Robin." He says, referencing back to a conversation the two had together when Isaac had first been assimilated into the pack.

"Guys, this is my responsibility. It's just something I have to do alone." He says, leaving no room for discussion. "Don't fight me on this, because I'm not letting anyone else get hurt.

Allison scoffs and shakes her head. "I guess it's a good thing we didn't ask your permission. You may be the Alpha, but this is still a democracy, and I say we put it to a vote. You can't stop all of us from coming with you, that's not how it works. We don't leave without each other, so sorry to say that you're stuck with us." She says vehemently, her teeth clenched in a snarl.

"We don't know what we're up against. Everyone knows the stories, it isn't just Malia and Theo. They have another four pack members that we haven't even met yet. You can't face this alone, and don't insult us by thinking that we'll blindly follow your orders. It's our job as pack and as friends to tell you when you've got a stick up your ass. And this is me telling you." Kira adds in.

Everyone looks at her with shock and surprise written all over their faces. Kira was shy, quiet, and only ever really spoke when spoken to. It was so uncharacteristic of her to give her opinion so brazenly. Heck, no one had ever even heard her curse before.

Kira looks at everyone staring and looks down blushing, mumbling a quick "Sorry" before moving closer into Isaac's side.

A slow smile stretched across Stiles' face. "No, don't be sorry, Kira. I like your honesty, you should give your opinion more often."

A small grin slants across her face, "I'll keep that in mind."

Dr. Dunbar stops in front of a set of double doors and turns to face the pack. "I have to get him prepped for surgery, you guys can't be in the room during that time. Stay in the waiting room and Melissa will give you updates."

Scott objects immediately. "We can't just sit here and do nothing."

The doctor frowns sadly but stays assertive. "Sitting and doing nothing is the best thing you can do for Stiles right now. Trust me to do my job and to help your friend. I'll take care of him."

Stiles nods at his Beta. "Go Scott, I'll be good."

Without waiting for a response, the doctor and the other nurses rush him through the doors as his image gets smaller and smaller.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Allison asks, leaning her head on Scott's shoulder.

Scott runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her forehead. "Yeah, he'll be fine. It's Stiles, somehow he always manages to survive."

The pack stays for a few hours as Melissa shuffles back and forth with updates on his condition.

"Can we see him?" Lydia asks, as they all stand when Melissa walks in for the fifth time that day.

Melissa rubs the sleep out of her eyes. "Not tonight guys, sorry, Doctor's orders. It's getting late and Stiles needs his rest, as do the rest of you. They have him all sterilized and stitched up good as new. And with his healing abilities, he should be able to be released by tomorrow. Why don't you guys go home and get some sleep. I'll call if anything changes."

"Thanks mom" Scott yawns, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

The others follow suit, each of them making their rounds and squeezing Mama McCall into a hug. She feels this sense of relief at each of their touch, every single one of them having a special place in her heart. They'd become like surrogate children to her.

Allison is last to get her hug but Melissa pulls her back and whispers, "The doctor was impressed by the way you stitched him up, Ally. You did a great job today under such a stressful situation. You just might of saved his life because without you he probably would of bled out. I'm so proud of you. Maybe one day you'll take an interest in the medical field? Doctor by day, monster hunter by night?"  
Melissa inquires with a wink, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before she turns and leaves.

The others had already taken off. Kira and Isaac left together, Liam offered to escort Lydia home which she chuckled at and ruffled his hair. And now Scott and Allison exit the doors hand in hand as he walks her home.

 

They say she moves like a ghost, a shadow of skin and white draped across her shoulder as she moves in lithe steps so gentle you'd think she is floating. In some parts of the world, they call her Aurora, "The Dawn" if you will. She moves like an electrically charged phenomenon of burning red light that magnifies the currents around her. You don't see her unless she wants you to and that has been her biggest advantage. What the legends don't specify is that the red is bloody richness that has become synonymous with the very core of who she is. She's a wretched mess of forlorn beauty like the snippets of anguished hymns you hum to yourself as you walk through a graveyard under dark gray clouds.

She moves through the black halls of the hospital tiptoeing down the rows of rooms with her dirty, bare feet barely making a sound against the tile floor.

She can smell him.

She creaks the door open and rests her arm against the door frame, peering in on the most vulnerable part of a person's life, what they look like when they are sleeping.

She lets herself in, closing the door softly behind her.

By the way he hasn't moved yet, she thinks he's most likely in a deep sleep so she doesn't hesitate to observe him languidly.

She runs her finger down his temple and stops at the peak of his cheekbone.

"You just won't die, will you? What am I suppose to do with you now?" Malia whispers in exasperation.

He murmurs unintelligible words in his unconsciousness, puckering his lips and squeezing his eyes tightly together. She wonders if he knows that she's there. But she came here for a reason. She had to see for herself if the prophecy was true.

"I guess you're probably wondering what I'm doing here. Well Sleepyhead, I had to see you for myself." She pauses and removes her hand from his face, placing it back in her lap. "I thought killing you would be best and for a moment I thought I had succeeded. Maybe deep down I didn't really want to. Possibly, curiosity got the best of me." She whispers to herself, reciting the prophecy over and over in her head.

"It can't be you." She growls with a hard edge to her tone. "I reject you. I don't want you." She breaths, just a few centimeters from his face. Bitterness was quietly present in each word she spoke.

"Those damn witches."

She sits for a while, monitoring his heartbeat and respiratory system. She stares at his head of brown hair, his porcelain skin, the star-spangled moles ever present across his cheeks and jaw. She thinks about the gilded caramel that lives beneath his eyelids, so lively and smoldering. The eyes that spoke to her before words ever left his mouth.

"I had to be sure." She says through fragmented sentences and choppy thoughts, eyebrows furrowed with a look of confusion on her face. "I didn't think this could ever happen to me. I do not feel and I do not care. Weakness leads to caring." She spits out, clawing at her hair. "I was suppose to kill you... Why couldn't I kill you?" She begs the question, shouting into the void of her mind. The catacombs crumble and rebuild themselves, a new answer birthing a new question.

"Listen here you bastard, fate or not, I will not let you ruin me. You will not get inside my head." She vows, planting the seeds into existence and planning to see to it that they harvest with fruitfulness. Prophecy doesn't get to push her around.

Stiles hand grabs her in his sleep and she instinctively pulls away. She frowns at her reaction and leans closer towards him in a non-threatening manner. "I have a pack to protect. You may think I'm the devil incarnate and maybe I am, but those people are my family and I will take care of them. I sold my soul a long time ago and there's no coming back from that."

Malia had come to terms with this, accepted that she could never get her soul back. She didn't get the luxuries of being a teenage girl, experiencing things like friendship, camaraderie, or love. All she knew was fate and her duty to it.

With one last glance at his sleeping form, Malia moves to kiss his forehead but the action screams intimacy, so she opts for his cheek. Her lips tingle and she touches them with her fingertips. She clamps her mouth shut in a thin line and rushes out of the room, throwing him a quick look over her shoulder.

She exits the building, falling to her knees against the red earth and pouring rain. The chilled pellets seeps through her gown, the near translucent, wet fabric clinging to her naked breasts and flat stomach. Her pink nipples stand at attention and the hair on her arms stands on end. But in that moment, she doesn't care. The cold is numbing as it beats down on her and lashes at her face. Her dress forms into her skin until it's indistinguishable from fabric and flesh. The nakedness of her body looks like fine porcelain in the first rays of the morning breaking through the horizon. In the flimsy onesie and pure white underwear that managed to survive the rain, she almost looks like an angel. But angels don't walk around with crowns balanced on their heads or barely coveted tears in their eyes.

She races back to her haven, bumping into Theo on the way to her chambers.

He takes in her taunt nipples and her swollen lips, unintentionally missing the puffiness of her eyes.

"Malia, what happened to you?" He asks, failing to keep his eyes off her body.

She flutters her eyelashes at him. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, baby. Now take me to bed. Fuck me so good and hard that I forget my own name." She challenges, curling her talon like claws around his bicep. "Do you like it when I touch you like this?" She moans, grinning when she hears his breath hitch.

"Fuck... Malia." He groans, taking her earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it viciously.

"That's it... Make it all go away." She says in a lust-filled haze, moaning loudly when she wraps her legs around his hips and feels him hotly pressed against her.

Needless to say, he makes her forget.

For the morning, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: OK guys, What did y'all think about this chapter? Do you guys like the pacing of the story and where it's going so far? Also, I always resented that the show ever delved deeper into Allison and Stiles' friendship, so I'm playing around with it. And what about Malia, huh? What do y'all think this prophecy is about? And selling her soul... what does that entail? It could be figuratively or literally... I guess you'll have to wait and find out. Any one else feel kind of bad for Theo? Anyways, let me know what you're thinking, liking, not liking, whatever you want. Reviews are lovely and always appreciated.


	5. Awful Things

Malia feels the crisp sheets beneath her finger tips. Her hair is a lion's mane, skin smelling of sex and honey, red angry lines running down the expanse of her otherwise smooth back. The whirlwind of anger, resentment, and hate come circling back around when her eyes flutter open and she remembers how she ended up here in the first place. Theo lays next to her, his muscular arm laid sprawled across her naked torso. She looks at him for a long time, searing his flesh with just her stare. She wishes that this could be enough: empty promises, empty passion, empty satisfaction. But it's not and it never would be, she knew this. He is handsome, she won't deny that. With his ashy brown hair, light gray eyes, and that rough, tortured ruggedness that instantly makes panties drop. He has that dream-like wonder that other women would go to war for if you can overlook some glaringly obvious psychological issues he holds.

But not her.

He is not for her.

No one is.

She moves out of his grasp, throwing on her underwear and not even bothering to slip on the wet dress from last night.

In a groggy-trance he turns and looks at her. "Malia, where are you going?"

Her body stills, "I think you already know."

Silence follows but she swears she can hear his heart break. She knows the sound all too well. She should feel bad, another thing that she knows. But she just... doesn't. There are too many things to feel in this world to waste any valuable time on remorse, not like she's capable of it anyway.

The sun is still low so Malia changes into a comfortable shirt and shorts, lacing up her running shoes, and decides to get in a morning jog before school.

The sky explodes in watercolors. Dark purples and pastel oranges chase each other in uneven lines with no end in sight. She hums to herself, a whimsical tune as her legs carry her down sepia roads. She's not sure where she's going, but in retrospect, when has she ever? She moves without thinking, like a tugging, bending her to it's will as she finds herself outside a two-story red brink house with a towering tree resting against the side of it. She doesn't even know where she is until she smells him.

Scuffed leather. Old Spice. And a hint of whiskey.

Stiles' house.

She's not sure how she even got here, the path and time having escaped her. She can hear whispering and the creaking of floorboards as footsteps move over them. She listens in on the heartbeats that saturate the room making a grand total of two. She smells her before she realizes who it is and she can feel something dark simmering underneath her skin. A gargled growl threatens to spill from her lips but she pulls it back, biting her tongue until she draws blood.

She climbs the tree, careful not to alert them of her presence. At a time she believed herself to be so sturdy, a brimstone fortress built so high that nothing could pass through. But then she peeks in on a mere shadow of Stiles' life through the dusty window that sits so still, and she's bursting at the seams.

The Banshee sits at his bedside. Lydia, she believes is her name. Malia feels her eyes cut deeply to her hand that is placed so casually in his. He's soft for her, she can tell. If not by the lazy circles he draws on her palm, then the crooked smile that falls underneath his too gentle eyes. She can't help thinking that gentle doesn't suit him. The man she witnessed was thunderous and born of lightening, his sordid waves crashing around you until there is no choice left but to drown in it. He could be Poseidon if it pleased him, wielding his wrath and destruction like a trident in his hands. But instead he settles for Hades. A man who could breed darkness with the air he breathes, however choosing to hold a steadfast fondness for a red-haired Persephone.

It makes Malia sick.

She hollows herself out until she can no longer hear her heart stampeding through her ears. She could have been sitting there for minutes, hours, days. She never really knew. Malia wasn't one to chase after time. Instead, she ghosted it, cheating death, spilling blood, and living life on her own clock.

Her eyes are deep-set, hollowed, troubled. And the dull brown fades to charcoal in measured spades, devoured by darkness like a moonless sky.

He turns suddenly, almost catching her watching by the window.

But she molds to her surrounds. She's had enough practice in the art of blending in. But she swears for a moment, a slip of a second, he caught the tail-end of her eyes, the last passage of brown bleeding into black. And that excites her. To know that she's there and that to think that maybe, possibly, on the off chance... He did see her and it excites him, too. And it would give Malia great pleasure to know that she is the last thought gravitating through his mind while he holds Little Miss Persephone's hand.

It was a gamble, that's for sure. A risky dance of her eyes to his. And perhaps when she sees him at school that whisper of eye contact will lead to long, drawn out glances. But they won't speak, that's the game. But they'll know, it will be their secret.

How is she to know the ins and outs of the prophecy if she doesn't expose herself to the ins and outs of Stiles Stilinski?

She leaps from the tree with the prowess of a feline. She makes her way back to her place to get ready for the day. Deciding to take the long way, she walks through a canopy of trees, kicking up dirt with the bottom of her feet and closing her eyes as the chill of the air hits her face.

"Malia Tate, a pleasure." A soft-spoken voice speaks.

Malia's eyes flash open and is instinctively on the defense. Her claws extend through her nail buds, her canines drop, and her red eyes bore into the stranger.

A deep-seeded snarl echos through her chest, the vibrations rattling her throat.

She assesses the frail, rounded woman who exhibits a sickly pallor. "You have a lot of nerve confronting me all by your lonesome, witch." She spits out, saliva dripping from her razor sharp teeth. "It isn't wise to sneak up on someone like me."

The old woman's cherub face holds a smile. "I wouldn't exactly call it sneaking up, child. I was right under your nose, but it seems that your head was up in the clouds. May I ask why?" She gloats with an all-knowing snark. She's a sassy, old thing.

Malia holds a dry smirk. "You know, prying into things you have no business getting involved in isn't very becoming of a woman your age."

The woman titters. "You are the one who came to us for help, don't you remember? You have us to thank for your Desert Wolf problems."

How could she forget? She's dealing with the aftermath of that decision at this very moment.

Malia rubs her chin, "I vaguely remember your face. You helped me kill my mother and I paid my debt. I always do." She pauses, giving the lady a once over. Unfortunately, she isn't falling prey to Malia's intimidation tactics. When she realizes there's no scaring the witch off, she gives in to her curiosity. "What do you want?"

"You've found him."

Her ribs shiver. Her spine straightens. Her heart stops.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The witch gives her a disbelieving look. "You try to be so cold. But that hardness, it's melting, isn't it?"

Malia stares back with a soulless glint shining in her blank orbs. "I think you should watch who you're talking to." She warns, voice dripping in poison the same way it swims through her veins. "I am the Devil's daughter, and you'd do well to remember that." Her voice takes on a raspiness. It's guttural and inhuman. Black, bloody pools take over the whites of her eyes, the demoness awakened.

The witch has the decency to look away from her. "I apologize, Aurora. I do not mean any disrespect. I only came to warn you."

Malia grabs the tiny woman by the shoulders and shakes her hard. "Warn me of what? Speak witch before I rip your tongue from your mouth!"

The old woman tremors in her hands. "The boy will be your undoing."

Malia's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"The Devil has been watching you, my dear. And he is not happy. He knows why you are here."

Her teeth clench hard. "I don't even know why I'm here."

The witch's eyes soften. "Yes you do, dear. You must of felt it. He's the beacon drawing your here. For years now you've felt a tugging, haven't you? That insufferable knot in the center of your chest. It's been pulling you closer and closer to this place. To him. You know it to be true."

Malia lets go of the woman but holds her ground. "I resisted this place like a plague ever since I met up with you and your coven. I almost killed him yesterday but something unconsciously held me back. If I had stabbed him a mere centimeter's difference, I would have impaled his heart. And he would be dead." Her eyes blink rapidly, alternating between red, black, and brown. "I need you to fix me."  
"It is too late, child. What is done cannot be undone."

"The Prophecy cannot come to light. I have my own responsibilities to my pack and to myself. He will only get in the way."

"You can't run from your Mate, dear. Fate, the Universe, whatever you want to call it... Won't let it happen. It is destined, meant to be. You can't outrun this."

"Then I really will have to kill him. I need the Devil for the power to conceal myself and my pack from the Dread Doctors and any anyone else who tries to separate us. In exchange, he gets my soul and I run an errand for him every once in a while. With Stiles around, he could be the key to getting it back. But that can't happen, it can't be both ways." Malia blows out a breath. "Killing Stiles stops any chance of him pulling me back. It's a loss I'm willing to live with. I don't need someone to save me or to love me, all I need is my pack. Besides, you can't miss something you've never had, right?"  
"Killing Stiles may solve your Mate problem, but do you really think the Devil will eventually let you go once you've rid yourself of the Dread Doctors? There will always be an ultimatum, a loophole, another burden for you to carry. The list will never end."

The witch looks on her with sympathy. "You'll give and give and give. And He'll take and take and take, until there's not a piece of the girl you once were left. You may have gave up your soul, but he didn't take everything from you. It's not too late to get it back before your own pack doesn't even recognize you."

Malia shakes her head vigorously, spewing a string of words over her tongue to calm her breathing. "I-I can't get it back. The Dread Doctors will find us. I won't let them take my family from me."

The woman chastises her with a crook of her wrinkled finger. "Then you will fall from grace one final time. There won't be a single place on this earth where Hell won't find you."

With a flick of her wrist and a few ancient Latin hymns, the old witch is gone.

 

Malia fidgets in the passenger seat. Theo drives, keeping his eyes on the road, but every so often he looks over at her in concern.

"Would you stop looking at me like that!" She snaps, looking out to face the window.

Hayden, Corey, Tracy, and Josh all quiet in the backseat.

Hayden lays a tentative hand on her shoulder over the seat. "Mal, are you okay? You seem... Tense."

Josh butts in. "Yeah... like- way more than normal."

Malia cuts him off with a glare. He gulps audibly, falling back into silence.

"Yeah Hayden, I'm fine, just not really in the mood for school today." Is all she supplies, shrugging off her hand and looking down at her lap.

If Hayden is hurt by the brush off, she doesn't say anything, simply scooting back in the seat and reapplying her seat belt.

The gang pulls up to Beacon Hills High School and gets out of the car. They walk in pairs. Malia and Theo, Corey and Hayden, and Tracy and Josh. They have a buddy system, never going off somewhere alone, that includes class. The huddle around a group of lockers, unloading their backpacks and mingling for a bit before the start of the day. Hayden is in mid-laugh when she turns her head and catches eyes with baby of the Stilisnki pack, Liam Dunbar. Her eyes twinkle for just a split second and his do the same, but just long enough for Malia to catch it.

She pulls Hayden aside when he passes and squeezes her wrist to get her attention. "What the hell was that?"

Hayden plays dumb. "What was what? It's just that stupid Liam kid. He's in my biology class, were partners."

Malia can tell she's lying but she lets it go for now, deciding that it's best to not draw attention to her suspicions. She'll just watch her closely, striking at the first sign of weakness. She taught her girls better than that. Where Hayden always had a dreamy look in her eye and reeked of helpless romanticism, Tracy was a far cry from that. She excelled in the art of seduction, using it to her advantage when she lured men into her bed only to inject them with her kanima poison and make them talk. She loved each girl in a different way, but Tracy was more like her. Tracy aimed to please her.

Josh and Corey look on with disinterest, waiting for the bell to signal first period.

They head off to their first class with Hayden and Tracy in tow, while Theo joins them in an effort to get away from her for a while. She didn't mind. While he was light on the eyes, his puppy love and sickly sweet stench was suffocating her. No one likes a pouter.

She turns her head and she sees Stiles. And Lydia.

The pesky, little wannabee Ariel was really starting to give her a migraine.

Stiles though, he had her attention. His steps are calm and confident, a demanding gait and swagger about him that screams sex on legs. His pale arms flex deliciously underneath his black tshirt and his jeans hang a little lower than usual, exposing the prominent V of his hips. Her tongue peeks out on command, licking her bottom lip in sexual hunger.

Her eyes ravish him, drinking in every chiseled contour of his body from the angled jaw, heightened cheekbones, the ripple of his muscles, his toned little butt, and his strong, ample thighs.

A thousand sinful thoughts run wild through her brain.

His wolfish eyes meet hers.

He knows, there's no doubt about it.

He had seen her. The revelation sears her skin and ignites her bones.

He's not even listening to the mindless red head anymore. All attention is on her, fixated, undressing her with his eyes.

This is what the kids call eye-fucking.

He cuts himself loose from the Banshee, leaving her gaping like a fish, as he takes purposeful steps towards her.

He stops about an inch shy of intimate distance, a quizzical question in his eye.

"You came to visit me at the hospital. Why?"

The question catches her off guard. She was sure that he was sleeping.

Malia treads lightly. "Insurance, I suppose. I have to keep all my ducks in a row."

He looks at her like he doesn't believe her. "Really... You sure that's it?" He smirks, his gaze drifting shamelessly to her lips and back up to her face.

"Maybe there was something else." She teases, suggesting... hinting that there could be more than she's letting on.

"Maybe you wanted to see if I was alive." He imposes, stepping closer, his slight height difference causing her to hold her breath. The air is electrically charged, the crackling of atoms in the air sizzle between them. She can feel him on top of her, around her, inside of her... And they aren't even touching.

She's so close that her mouth grazes his when she speaks. "Maybe... You're right."

A chill runs down his spine. "Why do you care if I live or die? You're the one who put me there in the first place."

She's rolls his response around in her head. "You threatened my pack."

"You threatened mine, first." He growls, his lip curling in a sneer.

"Hmmm" She nods. "I suppose we're at an impasse."

"I suppose we are." He says, throwing her words back at her as he tries to hold in a grin. She bites her lip, suppressing the same thing.

"Ceasefire... For now?" She proposes. It's best to throw out an olive branch when the situation demands it. Plus, it keeps any suspicion off of her when she finally does decide to strike. Malia has mastered the craft of patience. She could wait him out.

He rubs his stubble, thinking over her proposition. "And what do I get out of this?" He asks.

She grins, a full-blow smile showcasing all of her pearly white teeth. "You get the satisfaction of telling your pack that you were able to negotiate with the elusive Malia Tate. You and your pack get to sleep peacefully at night, coming in no harm from me or my family." She leans into his ear and whispers, "And just for you, Stilinski, you get the pleasure of staring at my lips when you think I'm not looking and don't have to feel ashamed of it." She finesses, letting out a little laugh at his stunned expression. She moves out of his space, putting some distance between them, both for her sake and his. Her eyes land on Lydia standing over in the corner, pretending that she isn't trying to listen in. "Strawberry shortcake over there doesn't even have to know."

Stiles blushes a deep red all the way from his cheeks down to his neck. The red is enticing. The sight makes her want to run her tongue over his skin that's glistening in sweat. She imagines the two of them in the thralls of passion, his body tasting of salt and rain, her mouth and fingers making trails between the valley of his neck and the indention of his collarbones.

It surprises her how hard and fast her arousal hits her, the smell perforating the air. His musky scent follows, mixing with hers when he smells it, too.

"You're a force to be reckoned with, Tate, I'll give you that." He swallows hard, trying to hold his breath so he doesn't get more turned on then he already is. The pheromones and chemo-signals make his groin ache and cause his dick to harden.

"I've been told that... once or twice." She banters, not wanting the conversation to end.

"But there's more than that."

Malia looks on in confusion.

"I saw you again at my window this morning." He states, no accusation or implication, just cold, hard fact.

Malia makes a noise in the back of her throat.

"You keep visiting me. Why is that? Does it have something to do with the prophecy?"

Malia's blood runs cold. "How do you know about that?"

"You mentioned it at the hospital."

No she hadn't. She was sure of it. She may have referenced it, but she never said it out loud.

"You're lying." She accused, pointing a finger at him.

"I'm not. I heard you." He explains, wondering why she appears so skittish.

No, it's not possible. Did he... Did Stiles... Get inside her head?

She was vulnerable, exposed, not careful. She should have covered her tracks.

Somehow he... Heard her thoughts. The Mating Bond... it's getting stronger. Soon enough he'll pick up on it if he hasn't already. She has to get away from him.

"I have to go." She says abruptly, turning on her heel.

"Malia, wait!" He yells, latching onto her wrist.

She pulls away as if he'd burnt her, all the while shaken to the core at how deeply his touch cut into her skin.

He looks at her with concern... his gaze gentle. There's that softness again. Her heart skips a beat.

He's already doing it without even realizing it... changing her.

She thought she was strong, immune to childish, paper-thin thoughts that haunted her when she let her guard down.

"Let me go." She pleads.

And he does.

He watches as she leaves, a once carefree flame now diminishing around her.


	6. Breathe, Desperately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Alps By Novo Amor & Ed Tullet(1st), Holy Ground by Banners(2nd), and Supermassive Black Hole by Muse(3rd)

Stiles watches her leave, so many questions beginning to form in his head. As she disappeared from view, a hot flash tore through his chest. He hadn't had the intention of following her, but something deep within his being tugged him along. He could feel something there sitting heavy against his lungs, the urge to breath causing him to gasp for air. It felt like the crack of a whip binding around his heart, beckoning him to chase after her. The feeling slithered inside his body, intertwining within his DNA, altering him without knowledge or warning. And when that sensation coiled around him in intricate loops, it drifted to other places, twisting and carving into his bones until it found a home. A form of suffocation into submission.

But then he takes a step forward. And another. And then another until he's in a full-blown sprint down the hallway. One more step and he can see her retreating figure once he's made it around the corner. Having her in his line of sight gave Stiles room to breathe again, something that didn't go unnoticed by him, but only served to create more and more questions. He sees her standing by her car looking as though the world has done her wrong. To Stiles, that is quite laughable. But just the reassurance that she's there causes a delicate shift inside of him. All of a sudden he is warm. Aching in an almost good way. Stiles feels unsteady and off-balance, the sensation being so deeply, yet terrifyingly comforting like waking up from a dream you've soon forgotten and remembering it again later.

The more steps he takes, the easier it was to breathe and the tugging began to diminish.

What the hell is going on with him?

Lydia runs after him, her yellow sundress flapping against her pale thighs and her red Louboutin heels clacking against the ground. She puts her hand on his forearm, trying to draw his eyes to her. "Stiles, what's going on? Did she do something to you?" She asks concerned, causing him to drop his gaze from Malia and direct his attention to the strawberry blonde. The distraction gives him pause and the lead feeling in his chest disappears as if it were never there to begin with.

He tries to concentrate on Lydia's face like it's the only tangible thing to ever exist but his mind is elsewhere. He can hear Malia breathing, the ruffling of her clothes, and the pounding of her heart from the distance between her car and where he's standing. "I don't know what's happening to me. One second I was fine and then the next I... wasn't." He stumbles out, casting a disoriented glance at Malia in some sense of explanation. "But I'm okay now." He reassures without actually looking at her, his eyes lingering on the tall brunette a little too long for Lydia's liking.

Lydia huffs, annoyed. "Why won't you tell me what she said?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Lyds, just leave it alone."

She crosses her arms over her chest, not backing down. "Fine, if you don't want to tell me, I'll just go over there and ask her myself. You can try to leave us all in the dark but I bet Malia would be more than willing to talk, even if only to get on your nerves." She snarks, making a move to walk over to Malia.

"Like hell you will." Stiles says, grabbing her roughly by the arm like a disapproving parent while still conscious of his strength so not to hurt her. His voice turns serious.

"Lydia, that girl over there-" He says, pointing to Malia, "She can tear you apart. You can't just go over there guns blazing with an attitude and an eyebrow cocked thinking you'll get information out of her. You're strong, but she's crafty and clever. She'll get inside your head and use it to her advantage."

Lydia pushes him off, glaring up at him due to the height difference. "First off, don't touch me like that ever again, got it? You can't just manhandle me when we don't agree, Stilinski." She warns, poking him in the chest with fire igniting behind her silver-green eyes. The little to no affect it has on him only makes her angrier. "And second, I don't need you being condescending towards me when it comes to my powers. I am a Banshee. I saved your ass once already, no thanks from you, by the way. I think I can take care of myself. And maybe while you're preaching to me, you should take your own advice Mr. This-Is-Something-I-Have-To-Do-On-My-Own. Look how well that turned out." She finishes, giving him one final glare before marching over to Malia across the lot.

No one tells Lydia Martin what to do.

"Lydia, wait!"

Ignoring him with a flip of her hair, she fixes her dress, puts on her award-winning "Lydia Martin" smile, and stalks over to the alpha-female who had overheard her and Stiles' entire conversation.

Malia composes herself when she sees the Banshee make her way over, not able to hold in the amused smirk at the girl's boldness. She wonders whether or not she should be impressed or laugh at the fact that this girl thought she could actually intimidate her.

The red head stops directly in front of her, that annoyingly-pretty smile still etched on her face. Malia just looks at her when she doesn't say anything, as if inspecting an insect underneath her shoe. She stares her down, daring her to break the silence first.

"Malia." She greets, starting off strong with a neutral tone dripping in confidence. The smile stays steadily even before ever so slightly cracking underneath the other girl's impenetrable gaze.

The brunette continues to stare, looking at the petite, sunshine girl that could so easily be broken like a toothpick between her teeth. While her stance exudes control and poise, her eyes give her away, making her appear so small as if made of glass.

Lydia's eye twitches at her prolonged silence, making the corner of Malia's lip quirk in mirth. She decides to save her from the forming beads of sweat that cling to the baby hairs framing her face.

"Ginger-snap, a pleasure as always. What can I do for you?" She says coolly, the coy arch of her brow rising in question.

"Glad you asked, Malia. You see, I was going to ask you about what went down in the hallway between you and my Alpha, but instead I just want you to stay away from Stiles, period. In fact, the whole pack." She states matter-of-fact, careful to not let her smile slip into a frown when she hears the other girl laugh. Her carefully put together persona begins to falter. For a second, she swears she sees a hint of spite tinged in red reflected in the Alpha-female's eyes, but it's gone before she can decipher it any further.

Malia chuckles. "Aw little Lyds, do you have a crush on Stiles? I didn't mean to step on any toes." She gloats, ruffling her hair with her free hand that isn't already attached to her hip. "But you see, I can't do that. We're all going to have so much fun together. You wouldn't want to spoil all the fun, would you?"

Lydia's teeth clench at the patronizing nature of her voice, willing herself to not let the brunette see how much her words affected her. It was one thing taking it from Stiles, but she sure as hell wasn't going to take it from this girl who didn't even know her. Human or not, Lydia doesn't back down from a fight. In her mind, she knows she should be scared and maybe she is. But she decides to let her instincts lead her, something that's so different from the pretty little box she usually lives her life in. She so used to molding herself to fit what is expected of her, whether that be good grades, throwing the best parties, or always having a solution to the pack's problems. But this time she refuses to give in to the endless voices in her head telling her to stand down. So actually following her instinct scares her more than the supernatural creature in front of her. And while this all goes through her head in a matter of seconds, she forgets to keep up her poker face. Insecurities show themselves in the most unfortunate and untimely circumstances.

"Sweetheart..." Lydia begins, but is cut off by Malia.

"I'd watch who you're calling 'Sweetheart', Strawberry Shortcake. Just because I'm playing nice right now doesn't mean I won't flip my switch in a span of seconds and rip that pretty little head from your shoulders. And trust me, that's me going soft. You should of seen what I did to the last girl who tried to tangle with me."

From across the lawn, Stiles takes a hard step forward, warning Malia with his eyes to leave her alone. Fine, she'll leave the violence to a minimum. He would of intervened already, but Lydia wanted him to trust her. But if Malia pushed him too far, he would step in and things would get ugly.

Lydia acknowledges Malia's threat with her arms raised tentatively in apology. No need for any blood shed today, she had just bought this new dress and blood is a hard stain to get out. "Look Malia, it doesn't have to be this way. Our packs don't have to be enemies. Whatever it is that you're doing here, we won't get in your way. Come on, this can't really be you. What happened in your life to made you this angry and volatile? I know things happen, I've had too many horrible things crash into my life, but you don't have to let the crappy situations you are put through win. Don't give your past power. You feel like you're a monster now and that there's nothing else left to do but to let it consume you. But let me tell you something... Not all monsters do monstrous things. People like Stiles, for instance. He wasn't always a good guy, but he's turned his life around."

Stiles listens on with interest.

Malia lets the words sink in, a creeping sensation lingering on the back of her neck. Her heart flutters unannounced, ever so lightly that she convinced herself that it hadn't happened at all. Her brown eyes somber, just enough that Lydia can see that she's gotten through to her. She's quiet for a moment, the words she wants to say scraping against her throat like dull razor blades cutting her open until it gets so bad that she wants to scream. Her jaw locks, the urge to keep those words from spilling out of her mouth like the blood that drips from the jagged scars that have surely reopened from the invisible cuts mutilating her throat raw. Her mouth stays shut to lock it all away with lips that have become more scar tissue than skin. If she lets herself feel for just a single moment, that little bit of hope will kill her before the prophecy does. She shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts. There's only one thing to do, so many things to say that will get Lydia to stop talking. She closes her eyes, feeling them click open. And that familiar brown shows itself in the form of angry black pearls that bore into a set of sanguine green eyes.

Malia snickers at her optimism. Little Red had almost been her shining silver lining. It's the closest she's been to giving up in quite a while. But she is the big, bad wolf and she eats girls like Lydia Martin just for the hell of it. "Does it bother you... The disdain that omits off of Stiles whenever you do that thing where you talk and talk like you're the smartest person in the room? And before you ask how I know that, I'll just tell you that I know a lot of things about your pack... I see things and I hear things. It really isn't an attractive quality, Lydia. No one likes a know-it-all." She states, watching the girl flinch in discomfort. "But besides that point, while your feelings for him are endearing and sadly to say... a little transparent, I wonder if he sees the desperate girl in there trying to claw her way out and seeking just a tiny scrap of validation. The girl who is just begging for someone to tell her that she isn't the vapid, walking cliche that she already knows she is..." Malia rambles, knowingly plucking at every single insecurity Miss Lydia Martin has felt her entire life like a puppeteer maneuvering the strings. "Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Lydia, because there's nothing redeemable in me to find." She says, browbeating her until she understands.

Lydia turns back to face Stiles who had heard the whole thing, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Stiles looks like he wants to comfort her. He starts making his way over, most likely to whisk her away so that they could talk in private, but she holds up her hand to stop him, mouthing a "later" and turns back to Malia. The unspoken bond between the two makes Malia's heart sink. It feels heavy with all the emotional baggage she's tried to expel from her mind. The two most powerful feelings in the world are love and hate. Ironic, how they are walking a fine line. They seem to be melting together to a point that Malia can't distinguish one from the other. So whenever hate flows through her veins, love inevitably follows. It's a confusing situation that renders her into a philosophical mess, leaving her wondering if her soul is really even that far away after all. In her mind, she knows that it's gone, having gone through the traumatic flashes of pain and disembodiment when it was torn from her chest. The Devil's hand prints are all over who she is now, her life essence quite literally in his palms. If there is a soul left to save, would she even want it back when this is all over?

She finds herself going off in these thought-provoking tangents, not realizing where she's gone until she comes back to reality.

To twist the knife of no return even further, she giggles for added affect as if they're simply old girlfriends gossiping at a sleepover, "But between us girls, do you love him?"

Lydia's eyes well with tears threatening to spill past her cheeks like a dam on the verge of breaking. Malia feels a minuscule tear in her coat of armor, but she patches it up quickly before the girl can see. Her heart doesn't have room for anymore people. Stitch by stitch she picks herself apart, seeing her own damnation right before she eyes. Maybe in another life they could of been friends. But she also thinks how in another life she would still be Stiles' mate. And in that other life where maybe she lets him love her, she wouldn't take too kindly to Lydia carrying a torch for him. Not in this life and certainly not in the next, Malia does not share.

She continues to taunt the poor girl, "I'll take your silence as an answer. You know, I pegged you for the conqueror type. You could walk around with your head high, obtaining love and power with only a look. You're beautiful, Lydia, as if that isn't obvious already. But you lack that edge, the kind of self-serving love for you and yourself only that could help a pretty girl like you take over the world. You'd never have to feel small again. A crown would look nice decorating those fiery red locks, but you're too afraid to reach out and take it."

Lydia's jaw clenches tightly causing her bottom lip to tremble while she holds her head high to reclaim some ounce of her dignity. "I don't want power."

Malia sighs, lowering her voice to a volume only Lydia can hear. "Everybody wants power. Whoever says they don't is lying to themselves."

Lydia face turns to stone. "If power leads to loneliness like I see in you, than it's not worth it. No one should go through life with an umbrella of sadness and isolation weighing them down... How else will you ever relish in the rapture only found in the rain?

Malia looks over at Stiles still watching them from across the lot and chooses not to answer her question. "He's waiting for you over there. Better go before he takes back his agreement on our truce. It's already fragile as it is."

"That's what you guys were talking about in the hallway?"

"Wow, you're smarter than you look."

Lydia rolls her eyes and leans in to whisper something in Malia's ear that rattles her whole being. "It must be so hard pretending all the time. Not giving a damn, saying 'screw the world', and hiding behind that red lipstick. I saw my words set off a spark in you. You don't have to admit to it, it's okay if that makes it easier. But don't let that old flame of yours die. I hope one day I get to meet the girl you were before the universe made you think that it had forgotten you. I bet she was beautiful."

With that said, Lydia moves out of her space before Malia can swallow her words, walking back over to Stiles who caught the tail end of the conversation.

Malia infiltrates the assemblage of hushed voices carrying out a conversation when she enters her pack's hideaway. Her thoughts are all over the place but she gives it her best attempt to leave that all at the door. Lydia's words still left an imprint on her and she doesn't know how she feels about it.

She walks in without being noticed. It's a trick she'd mastered over the years."What's everyone whispering about?" She asks, plopping down on one of the couches. Everyone goes quiet for a moment until Theo speaks up. "The Dread Doctors are on our tail, Malia. They must of followed us here somehow."

Her eyes flash a dangerous red. "Excuse me, I must have misheard what you said, come again?" She barks, jumping to her feet until she towers above the others sitting down.

"They're here, Mal. I saw one out in the woods after school. I was going for a run to clear my head and I saw one them near this tree stump in the middle of a circle of ash. He didn't see me though, I made sure of it." Theo explains, trying to calm down the storm he can already see brewing behind her eyes.

Malia blows out a breath. "That's impossible, I made sure that our backs were covered at every turn, starting with precaution A going all the way down the alphabet to Z. You all know what I gave up to protect you guys." She says earnestly without an ounce of regret, looking at each one of them in the face as their gazes drop in guilt. "Hey..." She pries, using her index finger to tilt Corey's chin to look at her. "Don't do that, you guys. You know I'd do it again. It's the best choice I've ever made because you knuckleheads are my people. You're the only real family I've got." She reminds them with a ghost of a smile crossing her face, almost reflecting a sliver of the girl she used to be before she gave everything up for the ones she loves.

She redirects her attention to her most trusted Beta. "But that doesn't answer why you didn't bring someone with you, Theo. You know we always go everywhere in pairs. That's my one most important rule. What made you stupidly believe that you are above that?" She asks seekingly with a threatening edge, getting up into his face until their noses were almost touching. "You could have endangered all of us. What do you have to say for yourself? I'm hoping it's something good." She harps on, zeroing in on the stench of fear radiating off of him and reveling in it.

"I went by myself because I was in a bad mood, okay? I just wanted to be alone. I didn't think anyone would be out there, I swear. You know I would never put the pack at risk on purpose. I was barely gone an hour." He says, trying to diffuse the situation.

Malia's eyes roll. "What made you so emo that you disobeyed me, huh? Did you need privacy to go write your feelings down in a diary like a little girl?" She asks half-jokingly, but unknowingly hitting it right on the nail.

Theo diverts his eyes until he can't take the awkwardness and looks at her dead on, unrequited emotion coloring his expression. It was the same look she'd seen a thousand times: The numerous rejections, the same tired declarations of love that she'd throw back in his face, and the endless ways she's broken his heart.

Malia scoffs, rubbing her hand down the side of her face in frustration. "Oh god, come on Theo, give me a break! That's what's been bothering you? That we're just fuck buddies? I told you from the very beginning that it was just about the sex and that is all. Why are you trying to complicate things even further?" She complains, throwing her hands up in the air.

Theo rolls his eyes at her antics. "Uh hello, there are children present with ears highly susceptible to being influenced by your crude language. What kind of Mama Wolf are you?" He states, gesturing to the younger pack watching them with growing interest.

"Hey, we're not kids!" Hayden and Tracy scream simultaneously, looking at each other strangely when they finish.

"I don't have time for this. " Malia groans, sitting back down on the couch. Everyone follows suit, making a circle around the rectangular coffee table.

Malia notices the worry on Hayden's face. She silently pulls the dark-haired girl's head into her lap and runs her fingers through her wavy tresses. "I'm scared." Hayden says suddenly, capturing Malia's attention in a nanosecond. She looks around at the others resembling similar expressions. "Don't you guys know how ridiculously powerful you all are? I saw something in each of you that day that I rescued you from that hellhole of squalor and depravity the Dread Doctors had y'all locked up in. I hand-picked you guys because I just knew that we were all meant to be together, that you were worth saving. Right here, right now, and a long list of forevers. I'm not going anywhere and I will give my life protecting you guys."

It's been a journey getting here. When Malia had inevitably given up her soul, those first couple of years had been hard. She'd lashed out, broke stuff... Broke people, namely Theo. Her aggressiveness had heightened, anger and hate being her only companions. At first, she had felt virtually nothing. No love for her pack, no love for herself. She was made of ice. But as the years progressed and with lots of help from the pack, her stoic nature begin to thaw, even if only slightly. With help from the witches she had met on her travels, she was able to retain a little bit of herself back. Nothing big, really. A sparkle of emotion here, a smile every so often. She went from completely and utterly soulless to a sense of muted feelings. While it was hard for her to feel anything most of the time, that little sliver inside her could never abandon her pack. They are what motivated her to sell herself away in the first place, and it's the one part of herself that she got to keep, her love for them.

"This shouldn't be all on you, 'Lia, we all are responsible for carrying our weight. You've already given up so much" Josh butts in, giving her a look of respect and cautious not to bring up the hellish sacrifice Malia had made that would forever have an impact on who she is.

Tracy interrupts, "It's our vow to protect you, just like you've always protected us. None of us would be alive without you, just a list of failures drowning in mercury." She deadpans, sadness evident in her voice.

"Yeah, we love you Malia... You're our last standing miracle." Hayden chimes in, giving her a shining, innocent smile that almost makes Malia's dead heart leap.

Malia smiles softly, something very rare to witness."No more doubts. Remember our code: "Choice runs thicker than blood. We protect our own and we bare the scars of that choice like a badge of honor." She reiterates. " I'll continue to choose you guys every single day... and I hope you guys choose me, too."

"I say we go out and find the Dread Doctors. It's six against three. The odds are in our favor and we're a lot stronger now than we were the last time we encountered them. Lets give them a taste of what happens when you mess with the Tate pack." Theo preaches, earning appreciative glances from the others.

"Malia, are you in? You're the Alpha, we'd follow you through hell and back if you asked. So tell us... Are we going to war tonight?" Josh fishes, leaning into her to hear her response.

"This ends tonight." She says ominously, a slow smirk dancing across her face as a perfect eye brow raises in challenge.

"Carpe Diem, bitches!" Tracy shouts, causing the room to fall into a fit of laughter.

"Now, lets go hunt down some Dread Doctors. Here's the plan."

The pack sits around the table and discusses battle tactics, going through the alphabet of backups starting from A all the way down to Z.

"We'll lead them to the school and trap them there with the stakes that mess with their frequency. Their power will be contained. Theo, you're in charge of the stakes that will pick up the Dread Doctor's frequency. They may not have seen you, but I'm sure they probably know that we're here by now. Our scents are all over this town and they're excellent trackers. They found us unintentionally, most likely drawn here by the Nemeton."

"Malia, you never did tell us why you chose to come here." Corey states, looking up at her expectantly. "Do you think it was the Nemeton, too?"

Malia stills. The pack didn't know about the Prophecy. She hated keeping secrets from them, but it was for their own good. While the Nemeton probably had something to do with the attraction to this town, she knew the real 'beacon' was a certain stubborn Alpha with scattered moles and anger issues. If they knew that Stiles is her mate and the key to restoring her soul, they'd do everything they could to make sure it happened. She couldn't let them do that. They just don't understand, she's feels safe if she knows that they are safe. But they are teenagers and they can be reckless and stupid, never looking at a situation from all angles. All it takes is one flicker of determination for it to spread to the others like a domino effect. She couldn't and wouldn't let them sacrifice their protection for her. Because in the end, she would lose them. Either way you spun it, her intentions were inherently selfish. But she was okay with that if it kept them alive.

She has done deplorable things throughout her years on this earth, some that she can't even make herself say aloud. The devilish deeds were part of the bargain, another "perk" of making a deal with Lucifer, himself. She's gone on killing sprees up and down the California coast, patterns of massacre and slaughter staining her hands red with the blood of hundreds of souls. She remembers each of their names, some good and some bad. But nevertheless, she recites them before she goes to sleep and writes them down in a journal so that she doesn't forget. On the off chance that she ever does get her soul back, she thinks that maybe she can find a way to memorialize them. She thinks immortalizing a ghosted version of who they once were that survives long after they are dead would be fitting. Perhaps she'll carve their names into stone and take it to the Grand Canyon so the sun can shine bright against the script and they can get a taste of what Heaven could have been like. She thinks she'd like to know, too.

She whips up a quick response to Corey's question. "I suppose that's possible."

She had learned to control the upticks of her heart, mastering the art of deception. No one knew any different, so they were never able to catch her in a lie, one that she's been carrying on for a few years now. The exhaustion weighs greatly on her shoulders, but it's her burden to carry.

"I'll be the bait." Hayden offers, so easily willing to put herself in the line of danger.

"I think the fuck not." Malia growls defensively, her maternal instincts kicking in.

"Why not, Mal! Someone has to do it. I can take care of myself, you taught me that." She whines, pleading with Malia to give her this chance to prove to her that she's not a little kid anymore.

"How can you ask me to let you do this?" Malia asks in disbelief.

"Because I know that you would do it for me." She deadpans, looking her straight in the eye. "Let me do this, please. I can't feel good about this unless I have your blessing."

Malia hesitates. She wants so badly to say no, to use her Alpha command and forbid her from ever leaving the compound. Hayden is like her annoying little sister, but she realizes that she has to let her spread her wings sooner or later.

"...Fine." She relents, choking on the words as they come out of her throat. She glares at a dark stain on the table, digging her claws into her thighs underneath it to where no one can see how much this is going against every single nerve in her body. "Corey, you'll use your powers to camouflage yourself with Josh and catch them by surprise. Josh will electrocute them with his highest voltage until they're weak and at the brink of death. Tracy, that's when you come in and inject them with your kanima poison. From there we'll tie them up and lock them away in the cellar down stairs. I'll decide what to do with them when we have them here. Until they're gone, Theo, I want you to take the rest of them to a hotel to stay at for the night. I'm not taking any chances. Does everyone understand the plan?"

Malia waits for affirmation and receives a nod from everyone in the group.

"Okay, lets go."

Stiles and the pack huddle together inside the school gym. Liam had stolen the key from coach at lacrosse practice and Stiles already had a master key to the school due to his dad being the Sheriff. He's sure his dad won't miss it. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Lydia yet about earlier. She's been avoiding him ever since. He knew he shouldn't trust Malia, but he wonders if there is any truth in what she said. He wasn't sure what he felt for Lydia... If he even felt anything. He knows that he used too, back when he was a silly human with buzzed head and a shallow perception of who Lydia was in the first place. He'd always idolized her, putting her on this unattainable pedestal that was so high up, even God couldn't see it. But he doesn't see her like that anymore. He sees her flaws and quirks and finds that he likes them so much more than the idea of her he built in his head. But no matter how long he thinks about it, his thoughts somehow travel back to Malia... And he doesn't know why or what that means. Before he'd come here, he'd climbed up onto his rooftop to think and catch a glimpse of the moon. And the whole time he kept seeing Malia, a fading trail of her swimming around in his mind as he looked up at the sky. She'd tried to kill him, threatened his pack, and already caused way more drama than he needed. All he wanted was to finish high school alive. But in the back of his mind, he sees glimmers of something real inside Malia, something authentic and drizzled in haunting, dark beauty. She's the most ethereal creature he's ever encountered, eyes so wild and lost that he instantly sees himself in her. The old him. And part of him wonders if that's still who he is and all this bravado he puts up is a mask. Since meeting her, Stiles has been more in touch with his primal instincts then he has in a long time. He misses the passion etched in being so unforgivably himself, such a grey area to delve into. He feels like he can't share those darker parts of himself with his pack which is silly because they've loved him despite his distorted pieces, even sharing some of their own with him. But for some reason he still feels guilty, like he is corrupting them. What if Malia sees him and doesn't wish for him to smooth out his edges, no matter how barbed and broken? He'd seen it in her eyes the day she stabbed him. For a single moment, it was just them. Just a boy and girl, not enemies on opposite ends of the spectrum. She looked into his Alpha eyes and told him that red looked good on him. Something in the air shifted in that little infinity, but then her gaze turned cold like the flip of a switch and she was back to her hollowed self again. And then there was the incident this morning...

Why are girls so complicated?

Allison holds her bow and arrow at her side, inspecting the unique silver arrow head she had designed and forged herself with the help of her dad.

She holds the sharp tip up for everyone to see. "The point is going to be dipped in kamina poison. Jackson was nice enough to leave us some behind for emergency purposes. This should hopefully immobilize the Dread Doctors when they arrive. Kira also has her Katana laced with it just in case we need some extra girl power." She explains, giving Kira a little fist bump as the two girls wink at one another. "And if that doesn't work, we always have Lydia's scream to do some damage." She adds, pulling the petite girl into a side hug and resting her chin on top of her head.

Isaac raises his hand. "What am I suppose to do? I want to help."

Stiles inserts himself into the conversation. "Isaac, really, it's okay. You don't have to do this to prove something to me or yourself."

"I want to help, Stiles!" He explodes, eyes burning a gilded honey. "I'm tired of being scared all the time. My dad made me feel so weak and powerless for a long time, but today I'm going to be strong for you guys." He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare, eyes still shining a liquid gold.

"You sure you want to do this?" Stiles reiterates.

"Yes. I want this more than anything." Isaac assures, towering over Stiles head by a good 4 inches.

He claps him on the back. "Alright buddy, you're on. I want you to distract one of the doctors while Scott deals with the other. Allison, Kira, and I will take care of the one in charge. Derek is going to lure them here, he said he'll text me when he's almost here. Liam is here for extra strength, and then Parrish will finish the job." He reveals just as a half-naked Parrish walks through the door sporting a pair of ripped jean shorts and flaming orange eyes.

"How is he going to finish the job?" Liam asks. Somehow he was always the clueless one.

Stiles rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Parrish is a Hell Hound. If all else fails, he is our last resort. He was able to take on the Beast, so hopefully those rock hard abs and good physique will prove useful once again." He says sarcastically, looking at a seemingly offended Parrish.

"Is that all you think I'm good for, my looks?" The deputy asks, feigning hurt.

"Nah, you're good for other things too like getting me out of speeding tickets." Stiles says wittily with a silly grin.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

"DD on my tail. Be there in 5 mins. -Derek"

"Alright guys, it's show time." Stiles says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He hoped this plan works.

Like delivering the punchline to a joke, Malia bursts through the gymnasium doors with a group of teenagers in tow. There was a tall, dark-haired Latino, a small girl with chestnut hair who looked to be of Asian descent, a fair-skinned boy with a big eyes and a small mouth, another guy with black hair and no other obvious distinguishable features, and then lastly Theo. This must be her elusive pack.

"Hayden, what are you doing here?" Liam asks, shock written all over his face.

"Wait, you know her?" Stiles asks, wondering why he never mentioned a new girl.

"Yeah, she's my lab partner in biology." He says sheepishly, pink tinting his cheeks.

Oh... So he likes her.

"Stiles, what's going on. Why are you guys here?" Malia asks tensely, eyes shifting back and forth between him and her pack.

"I could ask you the same question. Were luring the Dread Doctor's here so we can capture them." He says, gesturing for her to explain her side.

She grins, impressed. "I guess great minds think alike."

"Well we were here first so you should just skidattle, cupcake. I've got this covered." He sasses, narrowing his eyes in her direction.

She balks, "You must be joking." She spats, giving a new meaning to 'if looks could kill'.

"I don't need you or your pack getting in our way," He explains, half-joking, half-serious. He mostly just said it to irritate her. Her facial expressions are the best form of comedy. If she wasn't so evil, she could be a meme.

"Stiles, she should stay. That's more strength and speed in numbers." Lydia chimes in, instantly meeting Malia's eyes with vague reverence before moving back to Stiles. Wow, the first time she's talked to him since this morning and it's to side with Malia? Did he miss something this morning in their conversation or what?

Unspoken deference passes between the two girls and they nod at each other in mutual understanding.

Weird.

Malia steps forward. "We'll take the lead Doctor and you guys take care of the other two. We have way more experience with these guys, so just let us do what we came here to do and this will all be over with before you know it."

Stiles coughs, cutting her off. "That's my job, I'm the Alpha."

"So am I." She growls. The two were caught in a power struggle, neither of them wanting to submit.

"Could you guys quit arguing like a married couple and just work together? Allison and Kira can help the rest of us with the other Doctors." Liam pipes out, rolling his eyes at the obvious sexual tension festering between the two. It was so palpable and thick, they could fog up the entire boy's locker room with the amount of testosterone and estrogen levels shooting through the roof. He'd hate to see what their sex lives would be like. Both of them wanting to top and neither of them wanting to be the little spoon. What a sight that would be.

"Shut up Liam." They say simultaneously, only making them glare at each other harder.

Liam chuckles. "See? Married."

Josh elbows Liam in the shoulder playfully. "I give it one week before they finally just fuck and get it over with. They say hate sex is the best sex."

The duo's boisterous laughter fills the room.

"SHUT UP!" Stiles and Malia scream, both of them embarrassed by where the conversation was going.

"Everyone be quiet, I think I hear something." Allison reprimands, everyone going silent to listen.

Stiles gets another buzz from his pocket.

They're here.

The doors burst open in slow motion. Derek takes uncoordinated steps inside as he sprints through the entry.

"Theo, the stakes!" Malia yells, motioning for everyone to get on the ground. When the stakes first capture the frequency and stabilize with the wave of the Dread Doctors, it will make a piercing whistle-like sound that could shatter your eardrums if left exposed. "Cover all the human's ears!" She shouts just before Theo stabs the stakes directly into the floor.

Scott leaps to cover Allison, Stiles lunging for Lydia, and Isaac protecting Kira. When the sound goes off, all supernatural eyes in the room respond to the call as all of their heads raise. Reds, blues, golds, and oranges illuminate the room in a celestial uprising like an explosive supernova going off in blinding, iridescent colors. Malia and Stiles' familiar red eyes undoubtedly find each other in the chaos. He's never felt so connected to someone in his life more than he does in that moment.

The first Dread Doctor attacks, grabbing Hayden and Liam by the throats and throwing them against the wall. They bang their heads hard and collapse against the concrete ground. Isaac attacks next with Scott flanking him while Theo and Allison take on the other one. One sneaks behind Malia and is about to go for her. Lydia sees this and lets out an ear-splitting scream, knocking the doctor 10 feet in the air and crashing against the mirror on the other side of the room.

"There's my little firecracker, I was wondering if she'd ever come out to play." Malia grins, giving Lydia a grateful look before meeting up with Stiles in the middle. "Okay, you take his left and I'll take his right." The two grab hands, looking down at them interlocking and realizing that they'd both done in without thought. Deciding to go with it and fuss about it later, they sprint towards the leader. Using Stiles as a catapult, she whips around his body, springing off of him and delivering a round-kick to the Doctor's mask. The damage is significant, but they don't stop there. Stiles lets out a bark, swiping at him with his claws. They tag team him together, Malia going for his mask while Stiles catches him off balance. They weaken him for a moment, focusing their attention on the others to see their progress.

Malia goes to help Hayden while Stiles continues to fight the Dread Doctor.

Allison pivots left and right, aiming arrows and releasing her bow with precision and accuracy. In the middle of the chaos, she doesn't notice the Doctor Isaac and Scott thought they had defeated creeping up behind her.

"Allison, look out!" Scott wails, being held up against the wall by the third Dread Doctor. Derek tries to free him, but a low blow to the knee immobilizes him.

Malia is only a short distance away, close enough that she could intervene if she wanted to. Stiles lets out a strangled growl when he sees that Allison is exposed, giving the Doctor an open opportunity to strike.

"Allllllisoooonnnn!" He cries, trying to get her attention over the loud noises of everyone fighting but she doesn't hear him.

Malia has a decision to make and fast. She could save her and prevent Stiles from mourning the death of a beloved, fallen friend or she could look out for herself and let her die. She doesn't know when she began to care or even sympathize with him, but she knows that if she were in his shoes, she would pray that someone would do it for her. With all the blood on her hands, it's the least she could do.

Malia's boots squeak against the gym floor and she sprints over to the unsuspecting hunter. Allison's eyes widen as he sees her coming, not realizing what she was about to do for her. Kira's sword had gotten scrambled in the wreckage which the Dread Doctor now held in his grasp. The Katana came slicing down through the air, cutting it in half with the sharpness of the blade. Just as it's about to pierce Allison's heart, Malia pushes her out of the way, catching the brute of the sword in her right shoulder.

Allison lands hard against the floor and Malia howls in unimaginable pain. White, hot lacerations cut through the nerves, skin, and bone, anguish erupting through her body like lava spewing out of a volcano. She's paralyzed by the agony, pangs of adrenaline shooting up her arm. Chills run down her spine like being bombarded by a cold faucet and then kanima venom starts to spread throughout her body.

She hears her name being shouted by a cacophony of different voices, but her hearing is starting to fade due to the ringing in her ears.

Theo, Josh, Isaac, and Scott battle the Doctor that stabbed her, slashing at it relentlessly. Parrish soon joins in.

Before her body can hit the floor, Stiles catches her, whooshing the air right out of her lungs.

The Doctors are adapting to the venom, getting to their feet and attacking all over again. Stiles has Malia in his arms, shielding her from the onslaught of fights while cradling her body against his chest and putting pressure against her shoulder. If not in this situation, she would be thinking way too deeply about the feel of his hands on her body, this time not wrapped around her throat. Her one regret is that with the venom intact, she can't even feel him.

Another one comes at them and Stiles fights him off, forming a protective stance over Malia as goo and blood splatter across his face.

He takes him down before returning, watching over her and running his fingers through her hair dampened with sweat.

She shivers, her lips tinged blue with cyanosis. All circulation starts to leave her hands and feet. Her brown eyes phase him with the naive curiosity he finds there. Wide-eyed and long lashes dipped in surprise, she looks so much younger. She asks,"Why did you save me?"

He meets her adamant gaze and something astronomical happens. Stars explode behind their eyes as they once again light up red in the presence of one another.

Why did he save her? He's been asking himself that question ever since his feet started moving to get to her before she hit the ground.

"I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: OK wow that turned out a lot longer than I expected. So this is a treat for you guys! Please return the love by leaving some reviews! The positive feedback has given me a lot of inspiration so if you like this story, keep it coming. So much stuff happened, what are you guys thinking about it? Do I sense some Malydia friendship vibes forming? Possibly some Mallison in the future? Was the Stalia to y'alls liking? I'm trying to build a huge web of relationships, platonic and romantic, throughout this story. Give me some good feedback! Xoxo, Etherealmindss


	7. Eyes Wide Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration: Pim Stones By Neon Lights and Me By The 1975  
> "You think falling in love is about holding on, but it isn't. It is about hands gripping the edge of the world and letting go, one finger at a time. Take a deep breath- here comes the drop. I know it's your first time here, but soon you will get used to the motion; the headlong dive into the deep. Just go with it. You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole." -The Edge of the World, Lang Leav

Lydia stands ivory and iridescent, rose gold hair tumbling down her shoulders in soft curls with wavy tendrils framing her face. Plush, pink lips part the sea of people, urging them to flee the scene. Every one in her periphery ducks for cover, placing their hands over their ears for safety.

Malia watches her in awe, always having a taste for strong women even if her preference for men was always her undoing. She spies little Persephone and thinks that she is glorious is this element, knowing from the start that she was a force to be reckoned with. The Alpha female has an affinity for wild spirits, and she realizes that she has come across another.

She lays still in Stiles' arms, his hands rough and calloused by burdens she knew nothing about. He uses them to rub her own hands between his, the friction eliciting heat that kisses her palms. And he holds her like she's made of rose-petals; paper-thin, velvety, and smooth... a thing to be protected. She folds into his caverns of warmth and safety like origami, hoping his body will swallow her whole until her back hits his rib cage and she's introduced to his heart.

She wonders if it's as black as hers.

Do our hearts bleed the same?

But part of her shudders in his presence, the cold, mocking voice in her brain reminding her that even if she wanted this, wanted him... To explore this connection, she never could. She would destroy the hope inside of him. The one that makes his chest feel like it's splitting in half, silently waiting for all the soot to fall freely down his open torso. He probably doesn't even realize that she's seen it, has noticed it from the moment she saw him.

Hope. The one thing Stiles seems to be clinging to. Malia could see it as a thin film of light that hid in the corner of his eyes: jaw set and wearing subdued sanguine like it's a brand new Versace.

She remembers the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him.

Malia had taken a secret trip to Beacon Hills before the rest of her pack. She wanted to scope out the area as a future home for her and her family. This wouldn't be a settling point until a year or so from then if she decided that she liked the quiet little town. But Malia always had her plan A, B, and C lined up, never knowing when the time would arise and she'd have to make a haste decision to relocate. No one knew about it except Theo but he didn't exactly know why he was suppose to keep it a secret. She had told him that she was eyeing up a future investment, that investment being where her and the pack currently reside presently. At the time, she hadn't wanted to worry the others, that would be like poking the beast. The younger bunch were finally getting used to the new place they had only recently took residence in. But no matter how much her pack loves Colorado, they couldn't lay down roots in their mountainous fortress.

Forming ties to a place leads to crippling nostalgia the day you realize that it is home. But from what Malia has learned, home is people, not a place. She couldn't afford for her pack to learn that the hard way, so she'd much rather them not even know she was inspecting a new place.

She had stumbled across the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign and felt a shift in the atmosphere as her foot stepped past the invisible barrier. She had heard a rustling in the trees, thinking that it was probably just an animal. But curiosity got the best of her and she began to weave through the trees and followed the noise.

The further Malia had gotten into the woods, her chest began to tingle in a way similar to heartburn. Her hand had touched the valley between her breasts, feeling around for the nonexistent flame that scratched at the surface of her skin. Unconsciously, she had continued walking through the pain, peering around as the rustling got louder and she stumbled upon a shadow of a boy. Interest getting the best of her, she'd taken a step closer, feeling the crunch of a leaf beneath her boot. Freezing up at her mistake, she looks over to see if the boy had noticed.

But he hadn't.

He stared off into space, unaware that she was there witnessing him fall to his knees beneath the California sunset.

He crumbled into the dirt. His hands squished it until it came out oozing between his knuckles. Even from Malia's distance, she can hear his breathing turn shallow as the smell of his salty tears hits the air. He felt... Sad. Actually anguish was a better way to describe it. She stood to where she could see his profile, his heavy lids darkened from either crying or lack of sleep, she didn't know. A slick tear slide past his nose, cascading down the slope of it until the tear caught in the hollow cupid's bow just above his lips. The same tears coated his lashes, turning the ashen brown into a heavy black. 

Malia finds him enchanting, watching dark billows of heavy clouds crowding the sky in his wake. Suddenly, it's raining. No more colorful skies. 

The thunder started next, beating to the sloshing rhythm of his very own heart beat. It's as if the sky is crying for him.

Shallow rocks sit in a semi circle and a single flower blooms in the midst of it all. And that's when Malia gets it. This is a grave, and she's interrupting the funeral.

"Gwen..." He mumbles through his tears. The name comes out rough, barely making it through the scratchiness of his throat. He rubs the what's probably weeks old stubble that's scattered across his jaw. He lets out the breathe he had been holding, "Gwen, I'm so sorry."

Malia watched on from the series of trees that hid her presence. He must have been really lost in thought if he hadn't heard her yet. He was an Alpha, she could smell it on him. He should have known she was there.  
She supposes he had other things to worry about.

His phone rang in his pocket and he answered it, "Hi-yeah dad, I'm- I'm here. No, you don't need to come all the way out here, I just" HE lets out a long breath, "I just need to be alone, okay?"

Malia listened in on the conversation, having caught the tail-end of the man's words as he finished speaking and gained some new knowledge on her mystery boy. She then could put a name to a face. His name was Stiles.  
"Yeah dad, I'll come home tonight, I promise." Stiles whispered, the lie easily slipping between his teeth. He had no plans of going home. Not that night, not the next, maybe not ever. He couldn't look his dad in the eye after what he'd done.

"You don't have to go through this alone son, I lost her too." A deep-set voice gently reminded him through the receiver.

Stiles' eyes squeezed shut at his dad's statement, the hand holding the phone shaking between his fingers.

"ll see you soon." He deadpans, hanging up the phone without so much as a goodbye.

Stiles pulled out a ragged old teddy bear with a torn ear from the backpack that sits beside him. It's dirty and ripped and Malia can smell the small traces of old blood infused in it's faux fur, the metallic scent invading her nose.  


He sets the stuffed bear down next to the flower, a watery smile overtaking his features for just a single moment. He sighs, "I was suppose to protect you but I'm the one who put you here. I swear I still see you everywhere. At the grocery store, at the park on the swing set... I find myself mistaking other mussy-haired brunettes for you all the time." He chuckles, wiping another tear that escapes down his cheek, "I just-I- I don't know if I can do this without you. Not now, not ever. I just miss you so much." He admits to the silent space, gathering the courage to keep talking. "I never believed in the whole Heaven thing; I know you did though. You were in bible-school every Monday and Wednesday. And even if I didn't understand it, I was proud of you. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, Heaven and Hell. I know where you are now, there's no doubt in my mind. You're now the real-life angel I always knew you were." He says, looking down at the ground. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't be a 'real-life' since you're technically dead. That's kind of morbid to think about, huh? I can almost here you berating me for it." He laughs humorlessly, continuing to speak to the empty grave while running his fingers through the dirt. "And I know that you probably don't blame me for what happened, but I blame me." He growls, his voice growing dark as a clap of thunder hangs over head. "And I just want you to know that I'm sorry and that's it's okay if you don't want to watch over me anymore. When you were alive your head was always stuck in the clouds and now that's where I'll always look for you." He finishes, his voice gravelly. His grief consumes him, existing so loudly as if it were a physical entity, and the magnitude of it made Malia gasp out loud.

She covered her mouth to silence herself.

His head shot up from the ground and eyes filled with a teary, whimsical hope that breaks her. He murmurs, "Gwen... Is that you?"

The hope coloring his tone is fleeting and his eyes deaden to a dull brown. Malia could see it all over his face. He had seen this so called Gwen's death again right before his eyes, his vision shadowed with memories and reliving that pain, no longer distinguishing dream from reality and coming to the terrible realization once again that she is dead. Malia nibbled at her thumb nail, having had the decency to feel guilty.

As if Stiles finally realized that he wasn't alone, his eyes pierced through the underbrush deep into her own that lay waiting for his next move with baited breath.

Would he find her? And what would be think if he knew she had witnessed such a private moment?

There's no way he can actually see her through all the trees, but for a moment she really thought he had.

Malia bolted back to the road, fleeing from the strange boy who somehow made her mourn for a girl she never even knew.

Hope. Yes, that's what she sees in him. She'd seen it that day and she sees it again. Stiles may thinks he covers himself well, but he can't hide from her. He may be forged from brimstone and hard armor but part of Malia knows that he hopes one day someone will find a chink in that hard exterior.

And she had.

Lydia's scream falls silent and the Dread Doctors are gone.

Her body is weak as she sways from side to side. Malia doesn't know what propels her forward, but with a grunt of pain she leaves the furnace of Stiles' arms and leaps to catch the banshee before her body crumples to the floor.  
Something about the girl caught her attention. She was a little dove; porcelain flesh in place of wings, strong, and oh so lovely. Malia's body worked instantly on overdrive, calling to her to protect as if the words were flashing red above her head. Knowingly, she couldn't let Lydia become another friend, another sister, someone else that she would try and fail to take care of. But she also couldn't let her come to any harm either.

The small, ablaze flame in her chest licks at her ribs. The last little sliver of her soul she had gotten to keep flickers ever so faintly. The feeling shoots though Malia, the foreign sensation almost causing her to grunt in pain. It warms her even as it burns, the spot over her heart feeling as if pressed with a hot poker.

"Friend" A voice whispers in her head.

Fine. Maybe... Begrudgingly, she could watch over Lydia.

Malia faces the group, her stoic expression giving nothing away.

"I'm taking her with me." She states, careful to throw the weary strawberry blonde over her good shoulder. The paralysis had almost worn off completely, her skin stitching itself back together like wool being maneuvered by invisible strings. The capacity of her body's ability to heal never ceases to amaze her.

Stiles shoots off the ground, a stern gaze directed at her. She steadily holds his eyes.

Neither of them seemed to want to give in first.

Stiles grumbles, realizing how childish this all was. "Like hell you're taking her anywhere. Just because our packs were able to work together doesn't mean I trust you. That isn't how this works." He explains through gritted teeth, making a move to take Lydia.

Malia side steps out of his grasp, tucking Lydia into her side. "Well you better start making nice and singing Kumbaya, baby, because I'm taking her with me." She takes a cool step forward, " ...And I'm not asking for your permission. I've acquired some different herbs and crystal healing stones throughout my travels and close contacts. That combined with my enhanced healing will make her feel better. Isn't that what you want?" She sneers, eyeing him with a looking of disdain and maybe even a pinch of jealousy.

Stiles sees the flicker of emotion cross her eyes before it's gone. He sizes her up, not believing what she's saying to him. "Why do you care about what happens to her? You threatened her life the other day." He challenges, keeping his eyes trained on Lydia who's unconscious at this point. She'd used up a lot of her strength getting rid of the Dread Doctors. A trail of scarlet blood rolls down her nose.

Malia dodges his question, looking down at Lydia and then back up at Stiles. "I'll take care of her." She vows, a grim line forming on her face before she calls out a name.

"Corey." She says with an air of authority.

Using his powers, Corey pushes his invisible cloak around his pack and the unconscious Lydia in Malia's arms until The Stilinski pack cannot see them anymore.

They're gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey sorry guys this is a little shorter and there may be some mistakes because I wrote this a little fast. I wanted to give y'all something because I don't know when I'll be able to update again. School is tough right now and I need to barrel through to the end. So just a heads up. Please if you'd be so kind I'd love the reviews to hold me over until I can get another chapter out to you guys. The reviews mean so much and let me know what you all think of the story so please take a second to leave me some feedback. I love long, detailed notes. I hoped you liked the chapter and I might have raised some questions? Who's Gwen and what does Stiles have to do with her dead? And where is Malia taking Lydia? And for all you dark!Malia lovers, she WILL be making a return so bear with me. Stay tuned!


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